What If
by Fyreheart
Summary: This is a series of one-shot stories and miscellaneous scenes about what if Harry had responded differently to key events in his life.
1. Chapter 1 – Harry and His Key

**Chapter 1 – Harry and His Key**

What if the idea that someone had been keeping an important item from him seriously upset Harry?

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The huge bearded man cleared his throat to gain the attention of the goblin behind the counter and announced, "Mister 'arry Potter wishes ter make a withdrawal." Such a large man couldn't help but have a loud voice and his announcement caused most of the bank's other patrons to turn to look at the man, but especially at the small scruffy-looking boy next to him. 

The goblin ignored the other bank patrons to look over the roughly clad man in front of him and then turned his attention to the scrawny and poorly dressed child beside him. "Ah. And does Mister Harry Potter have his key?"

Hagrid began searching through his long coat. "Oh, wait ta minute. Got it 'ere somewhere." Harry turned his head and stared at the giant man. "Aha! 'ere's the lil devil!" He held up a small golden key and slid it across the counter to the goblin.

"Wait a moment, Hagrid, " Harry began with surprised indignation. "Why do _you_ have a key to _my_ bank account and why did I never know I had an account here?"

Hagrid looked nonplussed for a moment. "Professer Dumbledore gave me yer key, 'arry."

Harry shook his head. "Why did _he_ have it? Why did I never have it?" He turned to look at the goblin behind the desk and demanded, "Why did a man that I've never met have a key to my account? Can you give me a…what do you call it…a list of all money going into and out of my account?" He suddenly realized how demanding he was being and quickly added said, "Please, sir" to the teller.

"Now 'arry," began Hagrid in a shocked tone, "Dumbledore would never take anythin' from yer vault. 'e is a great man, 'e is." The other bank patrons were now watching the two with unabashed interest. While Hagrid protested to Harry, the goblin waved his hand over the key and then pressed it against a pile of parchment. Columns began appearing on the parchment. When the writing stopped, the goblin looked it over. "There have been no transactions made against this vault since July, 1981," he announced.

"There, ya see, 'arry? Dumbledore just kept yer key safe, 'e did," the huge man said in relief.

"But why? If I had known I had any money, I could have used it for food and maybe some clothes! I could have hidden food in the cupboard for when my relatives refused to feed me!" Harry tried hard not to whine, but the very idea that he could have had clothes that fit or could have stockpiled food in his cupboard for the times he was locked in was nearly overwhelming. The watching patrons gasped at the revelations by the undersized boy.

"You didn't know about your vaults, Mister Potter? Are you saying that you never received a quarterly statement from Gringotts," challenged the goblin. Hagrid seemed to shuffle back a few inches at the grim menace in the goblin's voice.

"No sir," Harry replied. "I've never received any type of mail, _ever_! Well, except for the invitation to Hogwarts that my relatives wouldn't let me have."

One of the children watching the scene tugged on her mother's sleeve. When her mother bent down, the girl whispered "Mummy, I sent Harry Potter a birthday card every year. Does that mean he never got it?" The adult witch narrowed her eyes slightly. "It seems so, darling."

"This will require more investigation," the teller stated. He swiftly wrote a note with a long feathered quill and with a gesture, summoned a younger goblin to his side. Handing him the note, he said, "Mister Potter, would you please accompany Bluntnose?"

"'ere, now," protested Hagrid. "Perfesser Dumbledore tol' me not ta let 'arry out o'me sight."

"This is now Gringotts business, sir," responded the goblin. "You may wait for Mister Potter there," he added, waving at a series of chairs against one of the walls. Before Hagrid could protest further, Bluntnose took the young boy off the floor and down one of the hallways. When Hagrid tried to follow, several goblins with spears intercepted him and pointed him back to the waiting area. The huge man reluctantly sat down, muttering loudly about how Dumbledore wouldn't like this at all. The other patrons were quickly turned back to their business by the other tellers.

Unknown to the large Groundskeeper, a secretary at the Daily Prophet, the British wizarding daily newspaper had witnessed the entire exchange. She quickly finished her deposit, then returned to her office as quickly as she could. She was nearly out of breath as she rushed to one particular desk.

"Miss Skeeter!" A blonde middle-aged woman looked up from her desk. Her heavily penciled eyebrows rose above her crystal-embossed spectacles at the puffing secretary. Before she could answer, the secretary continued, "Harry Potter! He's at the bank and you won't believe what I heard!" 

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Harry followed the goblin down several hallways, eventually getting completely lost as they turned multiple times. Eventually, they arrived at a door with a brass plaque with three lines; "Potter", "Peverell", and "Standish". Bluntnose knocked twice, then opened the door. He strode quickly to the desk at the end of the room, laid down the parchment, and quickly left, forcing Harry into the room before he closed the door behind him.

Harry blinked and looked hesitantly towards the other end of the room.

"Well, don't stand there," the goblin behind the desk snapped in an irritated voice. "Time is money!"

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir," Harry answered and moved hesitantly towards the desk as the goblin read the note from the teller. The office itself was easily the size of the Dursley's living room. A well-dressed goblin was seated behind the desk, framed by the rear wall which held several axes, spears and other very sharp looking weapons. Harry stopped at the two chairs before the desk and looked apprehensively at the goblin who was also scrutinizing him very carefully.

"You are Mister Harry James Potter," the goblin asked. The Potter Account Manager kept his shock inside, allowing nothing to show. How could the Potter Heir be such a scrawny human and clad in what his mate would use only for cleaning?

"Yes, sir," Harry responded politely as he tried to examine the goblin without being rude. As with the others he had seen in the bank, the goblin before him seemed to be about his size with pale skin, as if he spent very little time outside. His dome-shaped head was mostly bald, with only a small band of grey hair as a fringe. His ears were pointed as was his rather large nose. Like the teller, he had very long fingers, probably the better to hold one of the weapons behind him, Harry thought.

"Hmph. I am Senior Account Manager Sharpaxe, Account Manager for the House of Potter for the last two decades. Take a seat, Mister Potter," the newly named Sharpaxe ordered.

Harry sat down cautiously on the closest chair. "I'm pleased to meet you Mr. Sharpaxe. I didn't know there was a 'House of Potter'," he admitted.

"Refer to me as Senior Account Manager Sharpaxe," the goblin said sharply. "I fought hard for the right to bear that title."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir," Harry replied immediately. The goblin sounded like Uncle Vernon, and he responded automatically to the tone.

Sharpaxe raised an eyebrow. Politeness was one thing, but for the Heir to the House of Potter to act like the lowest of the low? This was unexpected and troubling.

"Teller Goldtooth states that you have never received any mail from Gringotts. Is that correct?"

"Yes, sir," Harry responded immediately. "I've never received any mail, ever, except my invitation to Hogwarts."

Sharpaxe tightened the grip on his quill. "You've never received any mail? Not even from other wizards or witches?"

"No, sir," Harry replied. I didn't even know there were witches and wizards until Hagrid came. He told me that I was a wizard. My relatives always said magic didn't exist. I didn't even know how my parents really died, because my aunt said they were killed in a car crash. Hagrid said they were killed by an evil wizard.

"I see." His sharp ears caught a slight rumble and he noticed the young boy move in embarrassment. "This is going to take some time, Mister Potter. I will call for refreshments and a curse breaking specialist."

Harry wasn't sure what that meant, but the goblin pressed a button on his desk and spoke curtly in a harsh guttural tone. He then began writing on a parchment, so Harry sat back and patiently waited. He was used to waiting quietly. Uncle Vernon didn't respond well to fidgeting.

A few minutes later, a different goblin arrived with a tray, which he laid on the desk. There was a pitcher of water, two glasses, two small plates, a basket of rolls, and a bowl of what appeared to be cut up roots and chunks of meat. Sharpaxe noticed the boy made no move for the tray, although he looked at it with interest. The goblin sighed to himself, but put down his quill, opened one of the rolls, and spooned the roots and meat onto it and put it on one of the empty plates. He filled a glass with water and pushed them towards the boy. "Eat," he commanded.

Harry couldn't remember a time that his aunt had actually made him a sandwich and tried to hide his surprise, but gratefully took the offered plate and took a bite of the filled roll. The roots were crunchy with an earthy taste, almost like a cross between a potato and a water chestnut. The meat was spicy and like nothing he had ever tasted. "This is very good," he said with a shy smile at the stern goblin after swallowing his first mouthful. "Thank you, sir."

"Hmph," Sharpaxe responded. The note from the teller had noted that the boy hadn't known about his vault and was upset as he could have used the gold for food and clothing; that was beyond the disturbing comments that their client had never received any mail from Gringotts. Apparently, the youth had missed more than a few meals if his appearance was anything to go on.

Shortly after the boy finished the roll and took several swallows from his water, a knock came from the door. It was immediately opened by a goblin dressed in well-worn leathers. He ignored the human and looked inquiringly at the Senior Account Manager.

"Mister Potter," Sharpaxe began.

"Harry please, sir," responded the boy with another timid smile. Senior Account Manager Sharpaxe had been kinder to him than almost anyone he had met in his short life. The goblin had invited him to sit down, noticed he was hungry, and made him a sandwich of sorts.

Sharpaxe managed not to show his surprise and continued, "Harry, this is Senior Curse Breaker Swiftspear, one of our warders and curse breakers. I would like him to see if there are spells on you that would prevent you from receiving your mail from Gringotts."

Harry gave a shy smile to the new goblin and nodded. "OK, sir." He wasn't sure what this was all about, but everything had started once he said he hadn't gotten quarterly statements. He was curious about the reason himself. If he had only known about his account, he wouldn't have gone hungry so often. Well, once he had figured out how to get to London to get that money.

While he was thinking, the goblin raised his hands and said something in the same harsh guttural tones that Sharpaxe had used earlier. Harry felt a brief tingle from his scalp down to his toes. Almost immediately, Swiftspear scowled and spoke harshly to the Account Manager in what Harry assumed was their own language. Harry couldn't help but cringe when the Senior Curse Breaker snarled; he looked very angry and very dangerous.

Sharpaxe noticed the reaction and realized that his earlier suspicions were probably true. The Potter Heir was too hesitant, too submissive besides being poorly attired and fed. "Harry, Senior Curse Breaker Swiftspear found that there are three unique spells on you. One is a tracking charm. It lets whoever cast it find you no matter where you are." Harry's eyes widened. "Another is a charm to report your health to an undisclosed person or location. Finally, there is also a mail ward. It prevents you from receiving mail from an unapproved source."

"But..who would put those on me," Harry questioned in shock.

The two goblins spoke rapidly in their guttural tongue. Sharpaxe paused, opened a drawer and drew out a parchment, which he passed to the other goblin. Swiftspear cast again in the goblin language, and a rosy glow surrounded both the parchment and Harry. 

"The parchment is a Notice of Intent from Albus Dumbledore," Sharpaxe revealed, "announcing that he was assuming the role of Magical Guardian for you. The magical signature on the notice matches the signature of all three spells."

"But…that's the same man that was keeping my account key! Why would he cast spells on me to keep me from getting the mail you sent me? Or mail from anyone else? And he knows where I am all the time? That's….that's… _creepy_! That should be illegal! And how can someone I've never met be my guardian?"

"How indeed. Would you like Senior Curse Breaker Swiftspear to remove those spells," asked Sharpaxe.

"Yes, please!" He gave a pleading look at the leather-clad goblin. After several more phrases that the youth couldn't understand and several more full body tingles, Sharpaxe assured him that he was now spell-free.

In an office far away in the Scottish highlands, two silver instruments slowly stopped moving. The creator of those instruments was having lunch in the Great Hall, and wouldn't realize the problem for several hours.

After Swiftspear left and Sharpaxe made the appropriate deduction from the Potter account to pay for the services of a Senior Curse Breaker, he filled another roll for the boy, which the youngster immediately began to eat once it was handed to him. The Account Manager spent several minutes in quiet thought and then nodded to himself. Once the boy finished eating the second roll, the goblin started to put his plan into action.

"Tell me, Mi…Harry, when you received the letter from Hogwarts, did you return a signed acceptance that you were going to attend the school?"

Harry thought and then shook his head. "No, sir. Hagrid wrote that he had given me my letter and was going to take me shopping today. I didn't write or sign anything."

A malicious smirk appeared on the old goblin's face. "You are aware that Albus Dumbledore, the man who kept your key and cast those spells is the Headmaster of that school?"

Harry scowled. "I really don't want anything to do with him after all of this. If he had a spell on me that told him my health, then wouldn't he have known when they didn't feed me or when Dudley and his gang thrashed me, or when I was sick and Aunt Petunia said I wasn't worth the cost of aspirin or cough syrup." He sighed heavily and then slumped down. "But Hagrid said I would spend ten months a year at Hogwarts. That would only leave two months a year with my relatives, and…I really don't want to spend more time there than necessary."

"If you haven't personally signed that you are going to attend Hogwarts, there is no legal agreement, Harry. And as you are now eleven, per the Potter Family Charter, you can assume your role as Head of House. That emancipates you." At the boy's puzzled look, he added, "That means you don't need a magical guardian and that you can decide where to go and what to do. For example, you can choose to attend another school for wizards." Sharpaxe waited while the boy thought that through.

"I was really excited about the idea of attending a boarding school away from the Dursleys at first," the youngster said. "But today has been really…strange. First, those strangers mobbed me at the pub; everyone crowded around and tried to touch me. Then I found out my parents were murdered by an evil wizard that everyone thinks I killed; like a baby in nappies could kill anything bigger than a spider. Then I find out that someone I've never met was keeping something that belonged to me and that I could have used and finally I find out the same person cast spells on me! I don't care if he kept harmful mail away, but why keep your mail away from me?" He looked at the Account Manager. "Unfortunately, I don't know where else I could go and get away from the Dursleys. And I don't think anyone would let an eleven year old live alone, even if I do know how to cook and clean and do the laundry and take care of the yard."

"For a fee, Harry, Gringotts can help you review and evaluate all the other education options that exist for human wizards. We can arrange for travel and any other accommodations that you need, as well as arrange for an adult assistant to satisfy any wizard sensibilities. We can even have a tailor come in and make a new wardrobe. I would also strongly encourage that you have our healers give you a full physical." Each of those options would be useful to his client as well as generate a fee for Gringotts, plus he would gain significant status among his peers by duping Dumbledore in particular and the arrogant society of wizards and witches in general. He didn't learn until several days later that his young client had no objection to any of the fees he was charged. His uncle had always told him that nothing in life was free, which is why he had to work all day to earn a meal. Harry took that message to heart.

It the waiting area of Gringotts lobby, Rubeus Hagrid waited until closing time for young Harry Potter to return. It was only after being forcibly removed from the bank that he returned to Hogwarts and reported to Albus Dumbledore. 

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_Boy-Who-Lived is Boy-Who-Hungered_

 _By Rita Skeeter_

 _Many Gringotts customers were excited yesterday when Hogwarts Groundskeeper Rubeus Hagrid proudly announced to a teller that Harry Potter was there to make a withdrawal from the bank. Young Mr. Potter, known as the Boy-Who-Lived after surviving the killing curse, is now eleven years old and eligible for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. To the surprise of those in attendance, the boy accompanying the Groundskeeper was an undersized and shabbily dressed boy who looked closer to eight years old than eleven._

 _Onlookers were then shocked when the boy questioned why someone else had his vault key and why he never knew about it. They were further appalled when he loudly said that he could have used it for food and clothing over the years if he had known about it. Considering how small the boy was and how ragged his attire was, it was obvious that our savior was not living the pampered and protected life that has been portrayed in many books and articles about the Potter Heir._

 _Young Harry Potter was then escorted from the floor by a goblin after it was learned that he had never received any mail during his short life, including any letters or gifts from many grateful witches and wizards over the years. However, that lack of mail also included any account statements from Gringotts. Cuthbert Mockridge, the Head of the Goblin Liaison Office, appeared very anxious when he learned of that. Further research revealed that preventing the receipt of official Gringotts correspondence is a violation of the treaty of 1619._

 _Mr. Potter was not seen leaving the bank for the remainder of the day. When questioned, Gringotts spokesperson Headcrusher replied, "Gringotts confidentiality extends to all customers. If the details of one person's visits and accounts is violated, that means anyone's can be violated. Do you want Gringotts to publish the details of_ _your_ _visits or accounts?"_

 _This reporter wants to know why the public was led to believe that Harry Potter was being raised in a loving home, when instead he was obviously hungry and poorly clothed. Is this the reward that our savior earned after destroying He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Who was involved in this disgraceful situation? How many people knew that Albus Dumbledore kept the boy's resources from him, leaving him to grow up poor and hungry? What legal action will be taken against those who conspired against a young boy who only deserved our gratitude? We hope that the DMLE and the Wizengamot will initiate an investigation into this matter._

 _See Page 2 for the false portrayal of Harry Potter for the last decade_

 _See Page 3 for further information on the Treaty of 1619_

 _Boy-Who-Lived Was Abused!_

 _By Rita Skeeter_

 _In a never-ending effort to bring you the facts, this reporter dug through the layers of secrecy involving Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. To my surprise, I discovered that our savior wasn't living in the wizarding world at all. He was abandoned to Muggle relatives only hours after the murders of his parents._

 _This reporter was nearly assaulted when I attempted to interview one Vernon Dursley, husband to Potter's maternal aunt, Petunia. While Vernon Dursley acknowledged that Harry Potter had lived there, he called the boy (and this reporter) a "freak". The family never wanted "the freak", but he was left on their doorstep with no notice. The Muggle family had no way to refuse to keep the boy as they had no way to communicate with the wizarding world._

 _After covertly studying the house and listening to some of the Muggle conversations, this reporter overheard Petunia Dursley tell her husband that they needed to remove all evidence that "the freak" had ever lived in the boot cupboard. Yes, you read that correctly. Our savior lived in a cupboard!_

 _Talking to other Muggles in the neighborhood, your intrepid reporter learned that the boy spent the daylight hours keeping up the yard in the summer and shoveling snow in the winter. However, the neighbors were also told by the Dursleys that Potter was a hooligan. When questioned how someone could work all day and still find time to be an aspiring criminal, they had no answer. The image of a small boy clad only in worn-out oversized clothing is how most of the neighbors remember the boy._

 _An interview with one of Harry Potter's early Muggle school teachers disclosed that the boy had started out with excellent grades, but after two years refused to perform better than his cousin, with whom he shared a class. As this cousin was near the bottom of his class, Potter moved from being near the top of the class to being near the bottom. Was our savior reprimanded or even punished for performing better than his dim-witted Muggle cousin?_

 _What this reporter learned was disturbing. A young boy, kept in a cupboard, forced to work long hours, punished for exceling, clothed in practically rags who had no knowledge of the magical world or his place in it. Are there other war orphans similarly placed or was it only the savior of our world that suffered this way?_

 _Although Gringotts representative refused to give any details about the current location of Harry Potter, it was announced that per the Potter Family Charter, the young scion accepted his position as Head of House, which immediately emancipated him. As an emancipated Head of House, Harry Potter is considered by law to be a legal adult. The Gringotts representative also implied that the young peer may seek his education outside of Great Britain._

 _We call for both the Wizengamot and the DMLE investigate the circumstances of Harry Potter's Muggle placement and upbringing._

 _See Page 3 for the story of outraged readers returning their "Harry Potter" books to Flourish and Blott's and demanding refunds_

 _See Page 4 for a proposal from Deputy Undersecretary Delores Umbridge that Harry Potter's emancipation to be overturned and that he be made the ward of a pureblood family_

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While the wizarding world in Great Britain roared in outrage over the treatment of "their" savior, Harry was pleased to discover that the goblin healers were able to repair much of the damage the years of neglect had done to him over the years. They also discovered some type of parasite they called a "soul leach" clinging to him, but were able to remove it while he was unconscious for other treatments. He shuddered at the thought of a parasite and was very grateful to the goblin healers. He also experienced a growth spurt that left him aching, but worth every gold coin he was charged.

For two days, he rested in a small apartment, as he healed. During that time, he reviewed the information Sharpaxe had given him regarding magical schools that accepted human wizards. There were both day schools and boarding schools. Harry reviewed the curriculum each school offered. Some made it clear what careers their schools could help the student achieve. In addition, the goblin provided information on home-schooling through the use of tutors, and a list of currently available tutors.

Two days after the completion of his medical treatments, Harry met with Senior Healer Graspclaw. "One final examination, Mr. Potter," the goblin said, motioning him to lay down on the examining table. The healer uttered what Harry had learned was an incantation in his own harsh guttural language. An image of the boy's body emerged above him and several notations in a language that Harry couldn't read also appeared. After studying them for a minute, the goblin nodded.

Although not as abrupt as Senior Manager Sharpaxe, Senior Healer Graspclaw was still rather brisk. "Curse scar is healed, vision is repaired, bone density is improved and height is appropriate for your species and age." With another wave, the images dispersed and another appeared. A small smirk teased the goblins otherwise taciturn features.

"The removal of the soul leach has had another benefit," he stated.

"Yes, sir?" Harry was just happy to know that the parasite had been removed. He found the concept very disturbing.

"Your magical signature has changed," replied Graspclaw. At the boy's uncomprehending look, he repressed a sigh. It wasn't the human boy's fault that he had been raised so ignorant, he reminded himself. "Magical beings have magical signatures," he explained. "When you use magic, it can leave a slight residue that can be read with the appropriate spells. The residue is what is called your magical signature and is unique to each being."

Harry thought about that. "That makes sense," he said. "Why is it changing a benefit for me?"

"Because anyone attempting to track you based on your use of magic will be looking for your old signature. They won't know your new signature. Therefore, you can use your magic without concern for being discovered."

The goblin could tell when the human boy understood, as a smile broke out on his face, although he showed too many teeth. "That means that Dumbledore can't find me?"

The healer nodded and accepted the boy's accolades for being "brilliant". His fees were more appreciated than the praises, although both were generous.

Later that day, Harry sat in the office of Senior Account Manager Sharpaxe again. This time, he was well-dressed and healthy. He had read a small book that he had been given that described goblin customs. He inclined his head to the goblin, keeping his eyes on the other being's eyes. He immediately stated his business, so as not to waste the goblin's valuable time without unnecessary small talk. "Senior Account Manager, I would like your assistance in applying to Shuyukan School in Fukuoka, Japan and if accepted, helping me arrange to travel there."

The goblin decided to test whether his young client had considered his choice carefully. "That can be arranged. What caused you to choose that school?"

"They are ranked in the top ten according to the ICW rankings. They hold both magical and non-magical classes and permit year-round boarders. Attending there will give me a high quality education that can be used either in the magical or non-magical world. Lastly, they accept all races and species, which will help prepare me for working with all manner of beings."

His Senior Account Manager nodded once, and Harry hid his relief at the goblin's apparent approval. One day later, he was accepted into the Shuyukan School. With another fee to the goblins and a subsequent three-day headache found him fluent in Japanese and ready to start a new life. Sharpaxe arranged a series of port-keys for him to reach the school for another small fee.

In mid-August, Harry found himself in Fukuoka, well away from Albus Dumbledore, a man he hoped he would never meet.

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	2. Chapter 2 - Just Say No to Bullying

**Chapter 2 – Just Say No to Bullying**

What if Harry was shocked at Snape's behavior in his first Potions class and wasn't willing to just sit back and take it?

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Harry left his first Potions lesson barely keeping his temper under control, although his hands were clenched into fists with the effort. How dare that man act so badly? No teacher in his primary would have been permitted to treat students like that! The other Gryffindors had warned the First Years that Snape hated their House and favored his Slytherins, but Harry never believed the man could be so publicly nasty and blatantly unfair. Even Hermione Granger, a student that seemed to revere all the other staff members, appeared shocked at how offensively the professor behaved towards the Gryffindor students.

After years of keeping quiet about his relatives' awful treatment and the teachers that ignored Dudley's bullying, Harry had finally had enough. "I'm _paying_ for this school out of the money left me by my parents," he thought as he stalked through the stone hallway. "I would rather be thrashed with Uncle Vernon's belt than pay money to be insulted and bullied."

The raven-haired boy waited impatiently for Professor McGonagall's office hours. As Percy Weasley had pointed out on their first day of classes, she was not only their Head of House, but she was the Deputy Headmistress as well. If that was like a principal in his Muggle school, then the other teachers reported to her.

Harry knocked politely on the door frame to McGonagall's office when her office hours began. The stern Scotswoman was sitting rigidly straight in her chair behind her desk, her quill posed over what appeared to be a student essay. She turned her head and looked at Harry, but only the very slightest rise of an eyebrow indicated her surprise in seeing him.

"Come in, Mr. Potter," she said. She tapped the quill against the inkwell and then laid it down. She waved him to a straight-backed wooden chair in front of her desk. "What brings you to see me?"

Harry took a deep breath and looked down at his hands tightly clasped in his lap. He had never done this before. He had never complained about an adult, and based on his observations, most adults appeared to discount complaints from children. However, he was going to try to trust an adult this time. "You said that our House was like our family," he began. He peeked up at her through his bangs and saw her incline her head to him.

"You're the Head of our House, so are you like the head of the family then," he asked hesitantly.

Professor McGonagall's eyebrow raised briefly, but she responded simply, "You could say that, Mr. Potter." She waited somewhat impatiently for the shy young boy to get to the point.

He looked back at his hands and gripped them together more tightly. "Well, I have a problem, ma'am," he said cautiously. "Someone is bullying the students in our House, calling us names as well as insulting our families." He peeked up at the severe-looking woman again and noticed that her mouth had tightened. He didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Did you report it to a prefect, Mr. Potter," she asked.

Harry twisted his hands together and then forced himself to keep them still. "Well, that wouldn't help, Professor. You see, it's Professor Snape."

As he watched her from under his bangs, he was disappointed to see her face close off entirely and her lips and jaw tightened.

He hurriedly added, "He kept asking me questions that I couldn't answer, and then later blamed me when Neville Longbottom had an accident. I wasn't even working with Neville, but he said I was trying to make myself look better by not stopping Neville's accident. He…"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter," his Head of House interrupted his explanation. "But each professor has the liberty to teach their class as they see fit. Potions are very volatile, and the professor must be even stricter to prevent injuries."

"But he wasn't being strict to prevent an accident," Harry tried to clarify.

"Be that as it may, you must learn to work with all types of people with varying temperaments in this life. You cannot always have them adjust to you; you must learn to adjust to others as well."

"But Professor," Harry tried again.

"That will be all, Mr. Potter," she said severely. She picked up the quill and dipped it in the inkwell, and returned to correcting the essay on her desk.

Harry stood up and slowly walked to the door with slumped shoulders. He turned around and stared at her, only to have her look up and curtly motion him away.

OoOoOoOo

Harry sat in the Gryffindor common room next to Ron Weasley and fumed with barely controlled rage as well as near crippling disappointment. One staff member viciously bullied some students and unfairly rewarded other students. His Head of House refused to even listen to the problem. Should he bring it to the Headmaster? Was that the right course of action? He barely noticed that Ron Weasley was sitting beside him muttering about "greasy gits", knowing how upset Harry was.

"What is the problem, Harrikins," asked one of the Weasley twins, squeezing between the two younger boys. Harry thought it was Fred, but wasn't sure.

"I'm not sure glaring at the fireplace will cause it to burst into flames before your Sixth Year," added his identical twin, George, sitting on Harry's other side.

"It's Snape," their younger brother replied. Harry just nodded curtly, still angry about both staff members.

"Oh, Snape," shuddered George.

"He's enough to give you nightmares," agreed Fred.

"It's not right!" exclaimed Harry. "Why are we _paying_ to be abused? Why does anyone put up with it?" A few members of the House drifted over as they realized the hated Potions Master was under discussion and wanted to contribute their two knuts.

"What do you think we can do," asked Oliver Wood, the burly Quidditch Captain. "Snape's been the Potions professor for ten years and has been Head of Slytherin just as long. He favors the Snakes and treats everyone else like dirt. If there was anything anyone could do, don't you think it would have been done before?"

Harry looked at the students around him. "How many of you complained about him?"

Second Year Katie Bell replied, "I tried to talk to McGonagall about him, but she shooed me away. I even tried the Headmaster, but he basically just patted me on my head and sent me away with a lemon drop."

Harry thought hard as complaints about the Potions Master flowed over him. An idea occurred to him, and a smirk curled his lips.

"What are you thinking about, mate," asked Ron, curious about the devilish look on his friend's face; one he saw frequently on his twin brothers.

"It's easy for McGonagall or Dumbledore to ignore one or two people," Harry said slowly. The other students looked at him, now noticing the same mischievous look that Ron had. "But could they ignore twenty, thirty or even forty complaints that all arrived at once?"

"What do you mean," asked Oliver.

"I'm thinking that we all write up complaints, real complaints, about specific situations that have occurred in Potions. The insults to students, their parents, and their heritage. Anything that is inappropriate for a professor to say towards a student."

Fred and George immediately caught on. "How can anyone ignore page after page of documented evidence," one twin exclaimed.

"And we copy it to the Board of Governors," added the other twin with a broad smile.

Pavarti Patil was listening to the discussion from a nearby chair. "I could ask my sister in Ravenclaw whether they've had bad experiences."

Several students looked at her and then smiled broadly as the same idea occurred to them. "I have friends in Hufflepuff," Angelina Johnson said. She looked at her friend, Alicia Spinnet. "Don't you have friends in Ravenclaw too?"

"I do," nodded the teenager.

"So everyone talks to their dorm mates tonight and to their friends in other Houses over the next week," said Fred, picking up the leadership of the effort. "We collect accounts of what really happens in Potions, the nasty comments, the tricks that Slytherins play that Snape ignores, the points taken from Gryffindor when Slytherins are doing the same thing and how all of the problems are ignored, all of it."

"I don't know that I would tell Percy," added George. "He would probably tell McGonagall immediately, and the effort would be squashed."

"What if the Headmaster and the Board of Governors still ignore everything," asked Oliver. "Snape will take it out of our hides."

Everyone was quiet, thinking about how much worse Snape could get until a quiet voice mumbled something.

"What was that, Neville," asked Harry, looking at his shy and pudgy dorm mate.

Neville Longbottom gulped as everyone turned to look at him. "I…I said we could…send it to the Prophet," stammered the timid boy. "They would…you know…probably publish or…write a story…or something…" his voice trailed off.

"You're brilliant, Neville!" exclaimed Harry. The other boy smiled shyly at the compliment. "We should do that!"

"Well, we should first give the Headmaster and Board a chance to respond, but if they don't, we send it on with the message that they ignored everything," suggested Oliver.

"Brilliant strategy," said Ron. The young First Year was already becoming known for being a brutal chess player and he could appreciate the tactics. It was like a series of moves in a chess game.

The next hour was spent identifying who would speak to who in the other Houses, and how to keep it quiet before they were done.

OoOoOoOo

Once they heard about it, the Sixth and Seventh Years from each House took over the "Get Something Done about Snape" effort, also adding in complaints about a few other questionable staff members. It was Head Boy Robert Hillard from Ravenclaw who presented over 240 complaints from three Houses to Headmaster Dumbledore, copied to the Board of Governors. He reported back to the Houses that the Headmaster had agreed to review the complaints and take appropriate action.

Over the next few weeks it became apparent that Dumbledore had mentioned the complaints to Snape, but that discussion had the opposite reaction from what was desired. All Houses lost large numbers of points from Professor Snape, both in and outside of his Potions classroom. Snape was vicious with his comments during classes, and even harsher when he ran into students in the hallways. One month after no communication from the Headmaster or from the Board of Governors and the loss of hundreds of points, a copy of the packet of complaints was sent to the Daily Prophet as well as all of their parents, along with an explanation of what happened after the complaints were lodged.

"It's going to be tomorrow," Oliver Wood told students in the Gryffindor common room two weeks later. "The Prophet contacted both the Head Boy and Girl who gave the paper written comments about how bad it is, and how the staff and Board just ignores the lack of real teaching and the unprofessionalism." As a muggleborn with experience in primary school, Head boy Robert Hillard, was appalled at how unprofessional Snape was and made sure it wouldn't be ignored any longer.

Minerva McGonagall sat at the Staff table and looked out at the students the following morning. "Does it look as if the students are eagerly anticipating something," asked Filius Flitwick, Ravenclaw Head of House and the Charms teacher.

"They do seem to be waiting for something," the Transfiguration professor agreed. "There might be a prank in the making," she added, looking at the Weasley twins who seemed to be twitching in impatience. "It's a pity Albus isn't here this morning."

"I'll let the rest of the staff know to check their food," responded the diminutive instructor. He turned to his right to give a warning to Pomona Sprout.

To the staff's surprise, no pranks seemed to start as the breakfast progressed. However, the excitement seemed to reach a feverish pitch as the Hall was inundated with the morning owls, coming to deliver mail. Students seemed to forego their mail and instead clustered around those that had received the newspaper, the Daily Prophet.

Minerva gave one knut to the owl that delivered her own paper and unrolled it. Her eyes widened as she took in the large headline.

 ** _Investigation Demanded into Hogwarts Dropping Standards_**

 _Parents around Great Britain are demanding an investigation into the poor quality of education being offered to students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._ _Long proclaimed to be the premier school in the world, the reality appears to be far different._

 _The Daily Prophet has learned that hundreds of students compiled and presented complaints to Headmaster Albus Dumbledore and the school's Board of Governors._ _Weeks later, not a single student had been contacted for clarification and the abuse, yes abuse dear readers, of our students entrusted to the Hogwarts staff escalated._

 _The complaints received were from all seven years of current Hogwarts students in three of four Houses._ _In an effort to be fair and balanced, this reporter also interviewed dozens of graduates to see if they could corroborate the reports._ _The complaints included that students hadn't learned anything about the History of the Wizarding world, because Cuthbert Binns, the ghost teaching the class, only speaks about Goblin rebellions year after year._ _Several students also asked who received the ghost's salary, as they had paid for a History professor in their tuition._ _Has Hogwarts been defrauding parents for years?_ _Parents have a right to know!_

 _Besides History, Divination was also questioned, as the teacher, one Sybil Trelawney, chooses one student every year, and spends the remainder of the year forecasting their death._ _What is more shocking is that the other staff members are aware of her predilection for targeting one student to terrify and did nothing about it._

 _Argus Filch, the school Caretaker also had his share of complaints._ _Many students, both current and graduated, revealed that he has said he wished he could "flog the obnoxious little brats" for their detentions._ _Why were parents paying hard-earned galleons for a staff member with such a hatred of children?_

 _Other complaints were about the poor quality of brooms upon which our children and heirs are taught, brooms so old that our children's lives are in danger every time they take to the air._

 _However, all of that pales to insignificance when compared to the grievances regarding Potions Master Severus Snape._ _Hundreds of complaints described in detail how he bullied his students, calling them offensive names, belittling their heritage and humiliating them before the other students._ _Very frequent mention was also made regarding his blatant bias towards Slytherin House, of which he is the Head._ _"_ _Professor Snape frequent gives ten points 'for being on time' to Slytherins and takes ten points 'for breathing too loudly' from other Houses._ _The skewing of points means that Slytherin House has won the Hogwarts "House Cup" for years, making the award a laughingstock among the other Houses._

 _"_ _Slytherins have been seen throwing items into the cauldrons of other students, causing toxic fumes and even explosions, but Snape does nothing except take points from the victims," was a common complaint among both present and past students._ _Are we risking our children's lives by having them take Potions at Hogwarts?_

 _What is more appalling, is that our students have had to pay even more galleons to hire private tutors to have any chance of passing their Potions NEWTs, since Snape's teaching method is to put a recipe on the board and then insult the students if they failed to brew it properly._ _"_ _It's well known among the pureblood Houses that students have to hire private tutors during the summer to make up for the poor potions education at Hogwarts," one graduated student revealed._

 _Investigation has proven that since Severus Snape took over as the Potions professor from Horace Slughorn in 1982, the number of students who passed their NEWTs without additional tutoring has dropped by 68%, directly impacting the addition of healers, aurors, and potion makers._

 _"_ _We've gone to our Head of House, to the Deputy Headmistress, to Headmaster Dumbledore and even to the Board of Governors," stated a student leader._ _"_ _We were told that there is nothing that can be done about an adult bully insulting students in his class._ _We know that Severus Snape is a marked Death Eater," revealed the student._ _"_ _The copies of the Daily Prophet after the defeat of You-Know-Who showed that Headmaster Dumbledore said Snape was a spy, so he was released._ _If he was a spy, then why is he acting like a Death Eater to non-Slytherins?"_ _A very good question that deserves an answer._

 _This reporter demands to know why Headmaster Albus Dumbledore has allowed the quality of education to drop so dramatically._ _We need an immediate investigation into the qualifications of the Hogwarts staff and the alleged abuse our children and heirs have suffered at their hands._

Students were gleefully reading the article aloud to everyone around them and it was evident that they not only strongly supported the article, but knew about it in advance. Minerva recalled that Albus had mentioned receiving complaints, but the Headmaster had said they were only children letting off some steam.

She nearly blushed when she remembered that Harry Potter had come to her after his first Potions class and that she had sent him away. She vividly remembered his look of disillusionment when he left her office after she disregarded his complaints about their Potions Master. When had she become so complaisant that she allowed the students under her care to be bullied and humiliated by a staff member?

"How dare they!" exclaimed Severus Snape. "I'll show those brats bias! They will be cleaning caustic cauldrons until they graduate," he threatened with a hateful sneer.

"You will do no such thing," Minerva responded severely. "Are you _trying_ to be suspended or terminated? This wasn't just a few complaints, Severus, the Prophet reported hundreds. Hundreds! If I hear that you have acted out in class as a result of this, I will bring charges before the Board of Governors myself!" Snape merely narrowed his eyes and glared at her.

"If I find out a single Ravenclaw is mistreated in your class, Severus, you will face my wand," Filius stated firmly. "I trust you remember what happened the last time we dueled?"

"And insult a single Hufflepuff, and you'll never see another ingredient from my greenhouses, added Pomona. "That's a promise.

The man growled, stood and left the room, his robes billowing behind him.

Minerva raised her eyes to look at Harry Potter. He looked up from the article when he felt her gaze and simply looked at her frostily before he turned his back to her. She realized that she had failed her students severely by disregarding their justified concerns. She wondered if she would ever win their trust back.

OoOoOoOo


	3. Chapter 3 - Silent Vigil

**Chapter 3 – Silent Vigil**

What if Harry didn't want to attend the Halloween feast?

 **OoOoOoOo**

Ever since Hagrid had let Harry know that his parents weren't drunken bums that died in a car crash, Harry had tried to learn all he could about James and Lily Potter. The Hogwarts staff hadn't been very forthcoming when the shy boy attempted to ask questions, so he had learned what he could from the old newspapers the school librarian had pointed out to him.

It was now the end of October, the anniversary of their deaths at the hands of the so-called Lord Voldemort. A feast was planned for tonight, not only a recognition of Samhain, but as a celebration of the end of the war with the dark wizard. "Well, I know about my parents now," he thought. "And I'm sure no one can expect me to attend a feast that basically celebrates their murders."

Harry didn't think his friend Ron would bypass a feast for any reason, but he sought out his friend's older brother and prefect, Percy. After explaining his desire to spend the evening in quiet commemoration of the anniversary of his parent's deaths, Percy nodded. "Very commendable, Harry. However, make sure that Professor McGonagall knows. She doesn't like surprises."

That brought the young raven-haired student to his Head of House's office door. He knocked quietly, and at her acknowledgement, he opened the door and stepped inside her office.

The stern woman looked in surprise at the young Gryffindor. As it was only two months into the year, she didn't expect to have First Years seeking her out. "What is it, Mr. Potter," she asked.

"I wanted to make sure that you were aware that I would not be attending the Feast tonight," the boy replied with a solemn expression to his Head of House.

Minerva McGonagall, raised an eyebrow at the eleven-year old student. "Are you unwell, Mr. Potter? The Feast is mandatory for all students otherwise," she began.

"I am as well as can be expected, Professor," the boy responded. "However, with all due respect, an exception should be expected for me for tonight," the boy returned deferentially, yet adamantly. He paused, thinking to himself, "Please, please realize why this is important. Please don't have forgotten them."

The stern woman was surprised and somewhat annoyed that the normally shy young boy thought that concessions would be made for him. "Mr. Potter!" she growled, "You are not so special that exceptions should be made for you. Only students who are unwell have permission to miss the Feast."

Harry looked at the Head of Gryffindor with deep disappointment. Even she had failed to recognize the significance of date, and she had taught both of his parents for seven years. He had honestly expected better of her. "No, Professor," he replied softly to her rebuke. "I don't consider myself special and never have. My relatives made sure that I knew every single day that I was an unwelcome and unwanted burden on their otherwise happy family life. However, I would expect the staff to show compassion towards any student who wishes to acknowledge the anniversary of his parents' deaths, and not expect him or her to attend a feast that _celebrates_ their brutal murders."

The older woman gave a small gasp and held her hand to her mouth. Like everyone else, she celebrated the vanquishing of the Dark Lord that day. It never occurred to her how it must appear to James' and Lily's son that they were celebrating his parents' deaths. The look of acute disappointment in his eyes that she hadn't given a thought to their deaths filled her with regret.

"I want to spend the evening in a quiet vigil in their memory," Harry continued, as if she had never argued with him. "I would be grateful if you would ensure the other students and faculty don't interfere in my observance."

The Transfiguration instructor tried to let her eyes give a silent apology, but the boy had turned his face away, almost as if he could no longer bear to look at her. She gently said, "You are excused from the feast this evening, Mr. Potter. I will make sure the prefects know not to disturb your…privacy."

"Thank you, Professor," the boy responded. He inclined his head in either thanks or goodbye, she wasn't sure. He slipped out of the door and quickly disappeared down the hallway.

"Oh Harry," she thought with deep remorse. "How have we…have I…forgotten the sacrifices that resulted in our celebration?" She wondered how she could make up her insensitivity to the young boy who only wanted to honor his parents on this anniversary.

OoOoOoOo


	4. Chapter 4 - Dobby's Warning

**Chapter 4 – Dobby's Warning**

What if Harry heeded Dobby's warnings about not returning to Hogwarts after his First Year?

Author's Note: This is actually the first chapter of a short story that has yet to be finished, so you might see it again in another story.

OoOoOoOo

Harry listened to the conversation between the Dursleys and their dinner guests, the Masons from his small bedroom, where he was supposed to be pretending he didn't exist. He heard a small sound and turned around only to gasp in astonishment. On his bed was a small creature with large bat-like ears and huge eyes wearing a dirty pillowcase.

"er – hello," said Harry nervously, recognizing the little fellow must be part of the wizarding world. "Who are you?

"Dobby, sir. Just Dobby, the house elf," the creature responded.

Harry nodded. "I'm happy to see you, but my relatives are having company, and I have to be very quiet. Why are you here?"

"Oh, yes sir," Dobby replied earnestly. "Dobby has come to tell you, sir…it is difficult, sir…Dobby wonders where to begin…"

"Well, sit down and tell me about it," Harry began and then added urgently as the house elf gasped, "but very quietly. We have to be quiet."

"Yes sir, Harry Potter," the house elf responded more quietly. "Dobby has come to warn the great Harry Potter that he must not go back to Hogwarts!"

"W..what? Why? Staying here is _awful_. I'm counting the days until I can leave," Harry whispered harshly.

"But surely Harry Potter is safe here," asked Dobby. "If Harry Potter goes back to Hogswarts, he will be in mortal danger!"

Harry paused at that and stared at the sincerely intense little creature. He obviously believed what he was saying. After being confronted with a murderous troll, a bucking broom, a three-headed dog and a possessed professor, Harry had started taking his safety seriously and decided to probe further. "Why would I be in mortal danger, Dobby?"

The house elf twisted the dirty pillowcase it wore in distress. "There is a plot, Harry Potter, sir. A terrible plot. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!"

Harry sat down on the bed and patted the spot next to him. He shushed the little creature before it could exclaim about being offered a seat. After a few moments of thinking, he asked, "Dobby, do you know what happened last year at Hogwarts?"

The little house elf shook his head, causing his ears to flap a bit.

"Someone let a troll in to the school, and it nearly killed my best friend and could have killed me. Then someone cursed my broom so that it tried to shake me off when I was fifty feet in the air." Dobby's large eyes widened even further, but before he could exclaim, Harry continued. "On top of that, the Potions Master hates me with a passion and is a terrible bully. And I finally found out that my Defense professor was actually possessed by Voldemort!" Dobby squeaked in fear at the name. "It was Voldemort that let in the troll and cursed my broom and tried again to kill me at the end of the year! So could anything be worse than that?"

The house elf opened and closed his mouth several times. "Dobby didn't know that Harry Potter had gone through that much in his very first year. Dobby is very sorry." The little guy's huge eyes seemed to fill with tears so Harry hastily said, "It's OK, Dobby. I survived. So don't you think I can survive the coming year too?"

"It will be very bad, Mister Harry Potter, sir. Very very bad. What if Harry Potter has used up all his good luck, and only bad luck remains?" The little creature appeared to be near tears in his misery.

That gave Harry pause. If after hearing everything he had gone through last year, the elf still thought this coming year would be "very very bad", that sounded pretty scary. And what if Dobby was right and he had used up all his good luck? He had to admit that he had been very fortunate to survive everything that had happened.

"Dobby, I don't have many options," he said slowly to the upset looking elf. "My relatives don't actually like me much. I would probably be in just as much danger here as at Hogwarts."

Dobby's eyes widened to impossible proportions. "Harry Potter's relatives don't treat Harry Potter well?" he asked in astonishment. "Is that why Harry Potter is upstairs in a small bedroom rather than sharing dinner with his relatives and their guests?"

"Yes, Dobby. I do all the cooking and cleaning and yard work when I'm here. I don't ever remember a time here at the house when I've eaten enough to be full. Tonight, they're entertaining business associates of my uncle, and I'm up here under orders to pretend that I don't exist. Does that sound like they treat me well?"

In horrified astonishment, Dobby gasped, "Master Harry Potter, sir is treated like a house elf? Sir spends all day cooking and cleaning and staying invisible?"

"Pretty much," admitted the twelve year old boy.

"But Master Harry Potter, sir isn't bound to his relatives?" This seemed to be an important point to the house elf.

"They're my guardians…I don't know if that means I'm bound to them. And you can just call me Harry," he added.

"Harry Potter, sir is very kind to Dobby," the house elf said with a teary smile. "Dobby will check for bonds." He waved his hand and seemed to peer closely at the human boy. "Ma…Harry Potter, sir is not magically bound to his relatives. But Master Harry Potter, sir is having several very weak bonds."

"What?" Harry abruptly remembered to lower his voice as he had almost shouted out in surprise and the Masons weren't supposed to know he was here. "What do you mean that I have several weak bonds? Why? To who?"

"Harry Potter, sir has bonds to house elves," the little elf responded, sounding envious.

"But, I've never even seen a house elf before you," Harry protested. "You're the first I've ever met!"

"House elves can be bound to a family," Dobby explained. "Dobby's parents were bound to a family, so when Dobby was born, he was automatically bonded as well. Harry Potter, sir's family is very old. They would have had elves."

"I didn't know," Harry said softly. "What can I do? How do I know they're OK, and not hungry or sick?"

Tears spilled from Dobby's large eyes and rolled down his cheeks. "Harry Potter, sir is so very kind and thoughtful. Never has Dobby seen a Master so concerned for his elves." He sniffed loudly.

"It's OK, Dobby," Harry said uncomfortably. He patted the little guy on his shoulder awkwardly to console him.

Dobby sniffed again and then said, "Harry Potter's elves will always hear their Master. Harry Potter, sir only needs to summon his elves to him and they will come."

"Really? Wow, that's impressive." Harry opened his mouth to call any elves bound to the Potter family and then abruptly shut it. "Unfortunately, I can't try to call them. My relatives or their guests might hear." He looked around the tiny room and added, "Plus, I don't know if they would fit in this room." There was barely room to walk around the bed.

"Dobby can help," the elf exclaimed. He snapped his fingers and the room glowed briefly. He snapped them again, and the room began to expand.

"Whoa, won't they see or hear that downstairs?" Harry gasped.

"Dobby was first silencing the room and only then made it grow," he explained. The room appeared to triple in size.

"Now Harry Potter, sir only needs to summon his elves, and they will come," Dobby stated.

"OK," Harry said nervously, not quite sure what to say. "Um…I wish any house elf bonded to me or the Potter family would come here...if they are able."

OoOoOoOo

With small pops, three house elves appeared, one wearing coveralls and two wearing crisp pillowcases. All three bore an elaborate design on the right side.

"Master Harry?" all three cried in unison. Harry noticed that they were trembling in excitement.

"Hi," the boy said shyly. "I'm Harry Potter." He pointed to Dobby and said, "This is Dobby. I didn't know there were house elves bonded to me or my family until he told me."

The oldest looking house elf nodded at the newly introduced elf. "Rory be thanking Dobby then," he said. "Long have we been waiting for Master Harry to call us."

"Thank you, Dobby," the other two agreed with a smile and a nod of appreciation.

"Master Harry," the older house elf said, bowing deeply, "I be Rory, the head elf of Potter Lodge." He pointed to the younger elf in the pillow case and continued, "This be Blossom, she is cook and helps clean Potter Lodge."

The female elf smiled broadly at the boy and curtsied. "Very happy is Blossom to greet Master Harry," she said.

Rory pointed at the house elf in coveralls and added, "This be Samuel; he maintains the Potter Lodge grounds."

The third house elf bowed deeply, "Very happy to greet Master Harry Potter, sir is Samuel."

Harry smiled and said, "Well, I'm very happy to meet all of you and apologize for not knowing about you before today. So the first thing I need to do is ask whether you are all OK and whether you need anything from me?"

The house elves smiled broadly at the compassion their master showed. "Potter Lodge is has everything it needs, Master Harry," Rory explained. "All food is grown there, so we have no needs. Master Charlus called it 'self-sustaining.' Now, what can we be doing for Master Harry is the important question?"

Before Harry could respond, Dobby jumped in. "Harry Potter is living with nasty relatives that lock him in, make him cook and clean everything, just like a house elf, only Harry Potter is not being able to use magic. Dobby learned today that Harry Potter, sir, almost _died_ many times at Hogwarts due to nasty dark wizard that killed Harry Potter's parents. Maybe Rory can suggest a better place for Harry Potter to live and be safe?" He looked at Rory expectantly.

The three Potter elves looked at their young master in horror. Rory exclaimed, "Master Harry is being treated like a house elf? Master Harry is not having the magics to work that much!" The other two elves nodded so rigorously that their ears flapped. The three looked at each other and each gave a brief nod. "Potter Lodge belongs to Master Harry Potter, and we," he nodded to the other elves, "will take very good care of Master Harry and keep him safe. Master Harry's grandparents portraits are there, and they can offer advice about school with nasty dark wizard."

Harry blinked and tried to take in what Rory had said. He had a lodge staffed by three house elves and there was a portrait of his grandparents there. His grandparents! "My Grandfather's and Grandmother's portraits," he asked softly, "Do they speak?"

Rory nodded and bowed. "Yes, Master Harry. Master Charlus Potter, young Master James' father, has his portrait in the study. Mistress Dorea Potter also has a portrait there. They will be happy to speak with Master Harry and offer advice. Should Blossom pack Master Harry's belongings?" He looked around the room with a small frown at the poor bed, rickety desk and shabby belongings.

Harry blink and tried to think. He had a house somewhere? He was only getting ready to turn twelve. He couldn't live alone. Could he? But he wouldn't be alone. These three house elves already took care of the house and yard. And he could meet his grandparents, or at least their portraits. He wasn't sure how the portraits really worked, but the ones at Hogwarts all spoke and seemed intelligent. It would be great to talk to people…portraits...who really knew his dad. No one at Hogwarts seemed to want to say too much about him.

He heard his Uncle Vernon's loud laughter, probably laughing at a joke their guest told. Almost anything was better than living with the Dursleys!

"How would we get there," he asked Rory. He couldn't drive or anything.

"Master Harry only needs to hold Rory's hand," the elf said eagerly. "Rory be bringing him to Potter Lodge."

"Let's do it," the boy said nervously. "I only need my school trunk and that's still packed. I'll just write a note for my relatives."

He turned to the desk and wrote a hurried note.

 _Aunt Petunia,_

 _I just learned that there is somewhere else I could live, so wanted to let you know that I will get out of your hair. I know you never wanted me here, but thank you for taking me in regardless._

 _Harry_

Harry left the note on his pillow, where it would be easily found. Then he turned to his first visitor. "Dobby, thank you for coming to warn me about problems at Hogwarts. Without you, I would never have known about Rory, Blossom or Samuel. I really appreciate it."

"Dobby is very happy to help the great Harry Potter, who takes the time to thank a house elf," the little elf responded earnestly. "Once Harry Potter is gone, Dobby will return the room to normal."

The dark-haired boy nodded in approval and then held out his hand to Rory who took it in a firm grip. With a small pop, Harry felt a moment of disorientation, and then felt the night breeze on his face. He opened the eyes that he hadn't realized he had closed, and was surprised to find himself in front of wrought iron gates with a large lawn behind it and a house just visible in the dusk.

"Master Harry must place his hand on the lock," Rory explained. "The lock will prick Master's hand to prove Master is a Potter."

"Oh," Harry responded a little surprised. "Okay." He cautiously laid his hand across what appeared to be an elaborate lock. Forewarned, he only twitched when he felt a slight poke on his hand. A moment later, he felt an odd almost-weight settle on him and knowledge of the grounds, house and out buildings impressed itself on his mind, even as the gate swung open. He blinked in shock and looked at the head elf for an explanation.

"Master Harry has proven that he is the owner," Rory announced. "Master has control of the wards."

"Wards? What wards," Harry asked.

"Master Charlus will be able to explain better than Rory, if Master Harry is willing to wait."

"Okay," Harry responded again. He stepped through the gate opening with Rory beside him and the other two following a step behind and looked around curiously. They were on a wide walkway of finely crushed stone that was several hundred yards long and lined with stone statues of various animals. It was getting a bit dark to make out the lawn well, but as they walked, he could see that the "Lodge" was an attractive three story manor, built out of what appeared to be limestone blocks.

"Potter Lodge is on sixty acres," Rory explained. He gestured to the statues and added, "These are part of Master's protection. If the wards are breached, Master can animate the statues to protect the house. If Master isn't home, Rory can animate them if Master gives his permission."

"That's rather brilliant," Harry grinned. The statues were of various animals, including gryphons, dragons and other dangerous animals he had never seen before, but he was sure Hagrid would love them.

In a few minutes, they reached the main door to the Lodge, which opened as soon as he set foot on the steps. Once through the door, they were in a large entry hall. The room was quite bright compared to the evening outside and Harry blinked in surprise at the three elves. "Wow, you look good!" he exclaimed, and then blushed at his outburst. They now appeared to be much healthier than they had when they first appeared in his old bedroom.

All three elves smiled at him. "Master Harry is with us now and Master's magic is very strong," explained Rory.

Blossom frowned a little bit and then shyly asked, "Is Master Harry aware that there is a tracking charm on him and his wand?" Rory raised an eyebrow and stared at the surprised boy. "There is a charm to re-direct mail on Master as well," he added.

"No, I didn't know that," he said in shock. "Do you know who put them on me or what I can do about them?"

Rory tipped his head and then nodded. "Rory can remove them," he said. "If Master Harry didn't know about them, he didn't give permission for them. Should Rory remove them?"

"Yes, please," Harry responded immediately. "Even if my Mum or Dad put them on me when I was a baby, they aren't needed now, especially if you can always find me. What do you mean about my mail being re-directed?"

The head house elf waved his hand and then snapped his fingers. Harry briefly felt as if he was being cleaned from the top of his head down to the soles of his feet. Blossom explained as Rory stripped the charms, "That charm keeps any mail sent to Master away unless the sender is approved. Blossom doesn't know where this mail went," she apologized.

"Someone took my mail!" Harry exclaimed in outrage. "But what if it was important? What if it stopped my Hogwarts letter getting through or something from Gringotts?"

"Blossom doesn't know," the little elf replied sadly.

"Rory removed it," the head elf stated. "Someone may have put it on in case dark wizard's followers tried to hurt the young master. But no such charms are needed at Potter Lodge, as the Family wards scan for spells and dangerous things. Plus a house elf will make sure it isn't harmful before giving it to Master Harry."

"Oh, that's all right then," Harry replied with a smile. "Thank you."

"Has Master Harry had dinner," Blossom asked. He shook his head, as he wasn't invited to eat with the Dursley's guests. "Blossom will be making a plate for Master Harry right away. Perhaps Master would like to eat in the study as he talks to Master Charlus' and Mistress Dorea's portraits?"

"That's a great idea," Harry responded eagerly. Although nervous, he could barely wait to meet someone related to him that might not hate him.

Rory led him through the Lodge, pointing out various rooms along the way. The study had double carved wood doors that were already open. Inside, the room had hardwood panels covered with book shelves and a large dark green carpet lined the path to a large desk at the end of the room. Harry barely noticed the decorations though; his attention was on the two portraits behind the desk. One held an aristocratic middle-aged man, with dark hair pulled back from his head. He wore dark trousers, a gray vest, white shirt, and a dark robe with silver embroidery. As Harry got closer, he noticed a touch of silver at the man's temples and dark brown eyes.

Next to this portrait was one of a middle-aged woman, with her dark auburn hair swept up in a bun. She wore a deep red gown with lace around the bodice and cuffs. She looked curiously at Harry as he approached.

Rory bowed before the portraits. "Master Charlus and Mistress Dorea, Rory is presenting Master Harry Potter, Master James' son. Master Harry, this is your father's father, Charlus, and your father's mother, Dorea." Harry smiled shyly at the portraits.

Dorea's portrait gasped at the sight of the young boy, while her husband's eyes widened. "Oh ho," he said. "Why is this the first I've seen you, young Harry?"

"Charlus, be nice," admonished Dorea. "You can call me Grandmother, dear, and that sourpuss is your Grandfather. You look so much like your father did when he was younger! Why don't you sit down and tell us about yourself?"

Harry sat down on the chair behind the desk and looked at the portraits, blinking furiously as tears started to fill his eyes. "I…I didn't know there were any portraits of my family," he began. "I'm very pleased to meet you."

The two portraits both frowned a little. "Come in to this frame, Charlus. I have more chairs and this sounds to be quite a story," Dorea…his grandmother said. Charlus walked and disappeared out of the side of his portrait, only to reappear in his grandmother's portrait. They both took a seat. "There now, dear," his grandmother said. "Tell us about yourself."

"Well," Harry began slowly, not sure how to proceed. "Did you know my parents were killed by an evil wizard named Voldemort?"

Both of his grandparents nodded sadly. "Upstart dark wizard," muttered Charlus. "Most of Sirius' family followed him. I was glad when the boy came to us."

Harry was confused. "Who is Sirius?"

The two grandparents looked at one another and then back at Harry. "Sirius Black is your godfather," Dorea answered. "Alice Longbottom is your godmother. Haven't you met either of them?"

"I met Neville Longbottom at Hogwarts," Harry said. "I never met an Alice and don't know anyone by the name of Sirius Black."

Charlus laid a hand on Dorea's arm as she sputtered in outrage. "Hold on, love. Let's let young Harry here tell us his story." His grandmother quieted down and Charlus nodded at Harry. "Go ahead, Harry. Tell us where you grew up, with whom, who your friends are and anything else you might like us to know."

Blossom popped into the room and laid a plate on the desk that started Harry's stomach rumbling. It was filled with slices of beef, mashed potatoes and green beans. Dorea chuckled and added, "Take a few bites first, dear. A young man is never articulate while hungry."

"Thank you, ma'am," he said and eagerly took a mouthful and groaned in pleasure. The meat was a better quality than he ever had at the Dursleys. He had to cook that at a low temperature for a long time to soften the meat, but this was delicious! He ate several mouthfuls before he felt better. He wiped his mouth on the napkin he found beside the plate, and then blushed as he realized that he should have had it in his lap. He didn't want to embarrass himself before his grandparents!

He looked at the portraits who were watching him with interest. "After my parents died," he began, "I was left with my mother's sister, Aunt Petunia and her husband, Uncle Vernon. They never wanted me. They thought I was unnatural and a freak, but they did take me in. I had to earn my keep, so I cooked and cleaned and did the laundry and kept up the yard." Dorea began to say something, but Charlus squeezed her arm again, and she subsided.

"I didn't know about magic or that I was a wizard. My relatives told me that my parents were unemployed drunkards who died in a car accident. It wasn't until Hagrid brought my Hogwarts invitation that I found out that wasn't true, that magic was real, and that I was a wizard. That's why my relatives thought I was a freak, because they think magic is unnatural. Hagrid took me to Diagon Alley to get my school supplies. That's when I found out I was famous." He spit out the last word with some disgust.

"Did you know why you were famous," Charlus asked gently.

"Hagrid said it was because Voldemort killed my parents and then tried to kill me, but the spell bounced back and killed him. He said I was the only one to survive the curse and somehow everyone started calling me 'the boy who lived'." Harry shook his head in aversion. "As if I could have done anything to stop a dark wizard. What would I do? Spit up on him? Throw a nappy at him?" His grandfather's portrait chuckled at his comments, which faded at the boy's next statement. "They say 'the boy-who-lived' and I hear 'the boy-who-was-orphaned'."

"Who took you to your mother's sister," asked Dorea with a small frown.

"I didn't know until later, but I think it was Headmaster Dumbledore. I guess he did that because he's Chief Wizard or something. I told him at the end of term that I didn't want to go back to the Dursleys, but he said I had to."

"And just who does he think he is to make decisions for a Potter," exclaimed Charlus, forgetting that he was supposed to be keeping his wife calm. She in turn took his hand and squeezed it.

"How did you find out to come here, Harry," she asked with a soft smile.

Harry grinned a bit, although he was nervous about his grandfather's anger. "That was kind of funny. A house elf, and I had never seen one before, just popped into my room at the Dursleys. He said I shouldn't go back to Hogwarts because it would be too dangerous this year. I told him about the troll, and three-headed dog, and my broom being cursed during the game, and the possessed teacher, and asked if it was worse than that." Harry was looking down at his plate and didn't see the shock and horror on his grandparent's faces. "He said something that really got me thinking. He asked what if I had used up all of my good luck and only had bad luck left." He looked back at the portraits. "I survived because of a lot of luck, and if something bad was going to happen, I didn't know what to do. But almost _anything_ is better than the Dursleys."

He took another bite of beef and then a bite of mashed potatoes. "Dobby is the one that said he could see some bonds on me and had me call for any Potter elves. Rory, Samuel and Blossom came and Rory brought me here. He said I wouldn't have to work like a house elf here and that you could give me advice about Hogwarts." He smiled hopefully at his grandparents, loving the idea of actually having someone who might care enough to give him advice.

"Harry," said his grandfather, "We are very happy that you are here. It sounds like we have quite a bit to talk about. I would like you to finish up your dinner and then get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow, you can tell us about the troll and three-headed dog and possessed teacher."

"And the cursed broom," added his grandmother.

"And the broom," nodded his grandfather. "Then we can discuss options and what to do next. So eat up, young man."

"Yes sir," Harry said and tried not to shovel the food in, mindful that someone was watching him. Once the plate was empty, Harry wiped his mouth on the napkin and put it down with a sigh. "Blossom is a very good cook," he said.

"Yes, she is, dear," smiled his grandmother.

"Now, before you go to bed, I want you to take the large brown book on the very end of the shelf below me," Charlus said. Harry found and picked up the untitled book. "Put it on the table and open it up where the book mark is."

Harry found the book mark near the end of the book. There were a number of names hand-written in columns. "Yes, sir?" he asked.

"Cross out every name that doesn't have a line drawn through it," ordered his grandfather.

Harry shrugged mentally and took the quill from the desk, surprised that the ink in the well wasn't dried out. He figured that must be house elf magic. He dipped the quill and crossed out all the unmarked names, surprised to find Albus Dumbledore was one of the names. When done, he looked back at his grandparents.

"That book is attached to the wards. The people whose names were listed were allowed to either apparate or Floo into the Lodge," explained Charlus. "They can no longer access the Lodge."

"Appa…apparate?," Harry asked. "Floo?"

His grandparents looked at one another again and both shook their heads, causing Harry to duck his head in embarrassment. "Harry!" said his grandfather in a firm tone. Harry looked up at him. "Do not be ashamed at not knowing something. Your grandmother and I were just realizing how uninformed you were left, and we are not pleased with the person who abandoned you to your mother's sister. We are not upset with you! You aren't ignorant by your choice.

"Now, tomorrow, your grandmother and I will hear the rest of your story and then start teaching you what you need to know. Obviously, you didn't get a proper introduction to the Wizarding world. Apparition and the Floo are two methods of travel, that's all. We will explain it to you in more detail tomorrow. For now, just know that we are very happy that you found your way here and we are looking forward to getting to know our grandson."

Harry smiled shyly at the two, who smiled back at him. "Now call Rory, dear, and have him show you to the Heir's bedroom," instructed his grandmother.

"Yes, ma'am," he responded. "And thank you both. I'm really looking forward to getting to know you too. And thank you for giving me a home."

After Rory took the young boy to his room, his grandparents shook their heads. "Leaving the boy with what are obviously muggles who think wizards are freaks. Dressed in rags. Leaving him ignorant of everything magical. No training in our traditions, etiquette or customs." Charlus pinched the bridge of his nose. "The boy probably offended most of the purebloods by not knowing the customs they would expect a Potter to know. They probably thought he was snubbing them or deliberately rejecting our traditions."

"And this whole 'boy-who-live' nonsense," added Dorea. "Charlus, they're setting him up! But I want to know what happened to Sirius. You know he and James were like brothers. I can only imagine he was lost as well. But there wasn't a single Wizarding family that could be trusted to take in the child? My niece Walburga had three daughters. I wouldn't trust my grandchild to Bellatrix as she inherited much of the Black madness. Narcissa married the Malfoy heir, and I think he was a follower of Voldemort. But the middle daughter, Andromeda as I recall, married a muggleborn and had a daughter only a few years before Harry was born. Of course my niece was horrified and disowned her, but we sent her a silver tea service as a wedding gift as I recall. Andromeda was my great-niece and Sirius' cousin. She could have taken in the child and he could have been both safe and raised appropriately."

"There are so many questions, my dear, and I fear young Harry won't have too many answers." He growled out, "Our grandson treated like a house elf! The Scion of House Potter had to _earn his keep_ by working like a house elf!"

The two spoke long into the night, developing plans, alternate plans, and back-up plans to those, while Harry slept deeply in his comfortable bed; feeling like he had a home at last.

OoOoOoOo


	5. Chapter 5 - Hermione and the Firebolt

What if Hermione going behind Harry's back, resulting in the Firebolt to be confiscated, caused Harry to react differently?

OoOoOoOo

Harry couldn't believe what had just happened. The girl he considered one of his best friends had gone behind his back, hadn't even spoken to him, and now Professor McGonagall had confiscated the world class Firebolt he had received anonymously. He took a very long deep breath and slowly exhaled before he cut Hermione's rushed justification off mid-sentence.

"Hermione Jane Granger!"

The girl stopped her rationalizations in shock at Harry using her full name in such a cold tone, but immediately began her reasons again. "Harry, you have to understand…"

"Enough! You _will_ listen to me this time, Hermione!" He ignored the girl's stunned and widened eyes and continued icily. "Have you forgotten that I have been on a cursed broom before, Hermione? I would never want to experience it again. I do not want to die. I am not stupid. I am not a toddler. And you, Hermione Jane Granger, are _NOT_ my mother!"

She opened her mouth again, but he held his hand up palm out in the classic "stop" method.

"I would probably have spoken to our Head of House myself, but you took that opportunity away from me. You _assumed_ that I was too stupid, too greedy or too ignorant to be trusted with a decision about my own well-being. You _assumed_ that if _you_ didn't do something, it wouldn't be done. And that, Hermione, is why our friendship is now on the line. You may be intelligent, but the rest of us have minds as well. You may get good grades, but getting a better grade than me does not make you better than me as a person. If you want to be a friend, then treat me as a friend, not as some idiot who can't walk and chew gum at the same time!"

"But Harry," the girl began in disbelief, "you can't mean that."

He took another deep breath. "I mean precisely that, Hermione. Our friendship is in jeopardy because you believe _you_ are the only person that can think or make an intelligent decision. You look down on the rest of us because of that belief, and the Firebolt is just a symptom of the problem. You didn't even give me the _courtesy_ of speaking to me. You went behind my back without giving me the opportunity to make a decision myself. Does that sound like a friend to you? Should I go behind your back to our Head of House and tell her you need to take a break or drop some classes because your health is suffering? You would be furious with me, but you just did the exact same thing."

He took another cleansing breath. "This is your only warning, Hermione. If you ever treat me like a dim-witted baby again, our friendship will be _over_. As for today, I really need to spend some time away from you before I can even begin to think about forgiving you for behaving in such an underhanded and patronizing way."

He ignored her calls and left the Common room, but heard Ron say as before the portrait closed, "He's absolutely right, Hermione. You treat us like we're in diapers and you're the Mum, not as your friends. I'm with Harry on this." Harry walked down the hallway and headed to one of the hidden passages to cool down and avoid meeting anyone.

OoOoOoOo

Sometime after regaining his temper, he returned to the Gryffindor common room only minutes before curfew. Hermione was waiting for him and stood up when he came in to the nearly empty room.

Hello, Harry." Her voice was guarded, but not cold, which he perceived with cautious optimism.

"Hello, Hermione." He looked around. "No Ron?"

The girl shook her head. "He went to bed. I decided to wait for you."

Harry nodded and the two sat down on a sofa near the slowly dying fire. "We have a bit to talk about, don't we?"

She looked at him and then nodded herself. "You were right that I should have talked to you before going to Professor McGonagall. It's just…" She shook her head and seemed to take a deep breath. "Harry, you've never shown an interest in school, or homework, and you seem to rush in to things so often!"

Harry waited for her to collect herself and finish her thoughts. "You and Ron don't look into things; I feel like I always have to do that. I have to balance out how reckless you two are!"

The dark-haired teen took a deep breath and released it slowly. "I admit that I do sometimes rush into things. However, I had the Firebolt for half a day and never _once_ mentioned riding it." She seemed surprised and apparently thought about it, before nodding slowly.

"Hermione, I'm not eleven any more. I've grown and I've changed, but you don't seem to realize that. You _assume_ that I won't do my homework if you don't tell me; you don't wait to see what will happen. You _assume_ that I will take an expensive broom from an anonymous person and put my life at risk. You _assume_ I will always rush into things. Those assumptions are wrong. I never had friends before Hogwarts, so you and Ron became very important to me. You both accepted me as Harry, rather than the stupid "Boy-Who-Lived" label. But as I started to grow up and acted differently, both you and Ron made negative comments about it, almost as if it was unacceptable for me to change. Both of you make comments if I spend any time with people you haven't approved. Ron is OK as long as it's the Quidditch team, but anyone else is unacceptable to him.

"You seem to think I should defer to your judgment or have you participate in any decision I make. Do I participate in your decisions? No, only if asked for my opinion. Whenever I make a decision that you two weren't involved in, you both act annoyed or hurt. That's not how friends should behave. They should support each other and encourage growth."

"I don't want to lose you as a friend, Harry," Hermione whispered.

"And I don't want to lose you or Ron. But we all have to admit that none of us are perfect, that we each have our own interests, and it's OK to be different. I don't need or want a 13-year old Mum. I want a 13-year old friend. I may make mistakes if I don't always rely on you, but how can I learn without a few failures?"

"That's….that's surprisingly mature, Harry," Hermione replied with a small smile.

He decided to ignore the implied amazement that he was capable of being mature. "I'm not eleven any more. I have to grow up sometime."

"So we can still be friends?"

Harry gave her a lopsided grin. "Of course we can. I care about you. As long as our friendship lets us _both_ grow and learn."

Hermione grinned and grabbed him in a tight hug. "So how do we get Ron in on that deal? I'm not so sure he's willing to either grow up or learn."

"We could always set the twins on him," Harry replied with a smirk.

"Evil, Harry. Evil, but I like it."


	6. Chapter 6–The Mass Murderer Sirius Black

What if Harry's response to learning about Sirius Black in Third Year was to learn more?

OoOoOoOo

Harry Potter was having the best summer he could remember. After accidentally inflating Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge, he had run away to the Leaky Cauldron. As he arrived, he met a portly little man who stood out from the other pub patrons in a bottle-green striped suit with a very unfortunate lime green bowler. Harry was surprised to learn that this was the "Minister of Magic". Why would such an important man come just to assure a Hogwarts student that he wasn't in trouble for the accident with his aunt? On the plus side, he was able to rent a room at the Leaky Cauldron for the remaining weeks of the summer and not have to worry about the Dursleys.

Instead of spending twelve hours a day trying to complete an impossibly long list of chores from his relatives with limited food, he was able to eat his fill with the meals that Tom, the Leaky Cauldron's owner, provided. He spent his days completing his summer homework and exploring all of the shops in Diagon Alley. It was there he saw posters with the picture of a wild-eyed man asking "Have you seen this man? Approach with extreme caution! Do not attempt to use magic against this man!" In the picture, the man was holding a placard with "Azkaban Prison" on it.

When Harry returned to the Leaky Cauldron that afternoon, he stopped to chat with the pub owner. "Tom," the boy said slowly, "who is Sirius Black?"

"Oh my, you saw those posters, I suppose," replied the balding man with obvious discomfort.

"Well, yeah," Harry responded. "They are all over the Alley. But they don't say why they're looking for him."

"He's a mass murderer, Harry," Tom responded. "Don't even think of looking for him!"

Harry stared at the man in shock. "Why would I look for a mass murderer," he asked with astonishment. He may have been a bit reckless at school occasionally, but he wasn't suicidal!

"Well...oh...you don't know..." Tom's voice trailed off and he looked around the pub as if looking for an escape route or at least help. Unfortunately for him, it was after breakfast and before the lunch crowd arrived.

"Tom?" Harry frowned at the older man. The man was usually happy to talk about any subject. Why was he acting so odd? "Tom, what is the problem?"

"Harry, did anyone ever talk to you about how your parents died," the balding man said slowly.

"My relatives always told me they were unemployed drunks who died in a car crash," the teen replied. As Tom's eyes widened in shock, he hastily added, "But Hagrid said they were killed by Voldemort." He ignored the same shudder the pub owner gave that the terrorist's name seemed to invoke in everyone in the magical world. "I've been told I look like my father, but have my mother's eyes. Hagrid put a photo album together for me, so I at least know what they look like. My Dad was good at Transfiguration and my Mum was good with Charms. That's about all I've ever learned about them. No one ever wants to talk about them," he finished sadly.

"Aw, lad," Tom exclaimed, "I'll be happy to tell you everything I know." Harry perked up and sat down on a bar stool and looked hopefully at the older man.

"OK, let me think. Firstly, your dad was an outgoing chap. He was a bit spoiled, but many purebloods are, as most families only have one child. Always treated me nicely, though," he added. "The thing is, he was great friends with Sirius Black. Met at Hogwarts, they did. Both in Gryffindor. Were thick as thieves from what everyone said, practically brothers. But it was all a lie. Sirius Black was from a dark family, and he joined up with You-Know-Who secretly. The bastard actually led him to your parents the night they died. He was caught, though, and shipped off to Azkaban."

Harry stared at the man. "You're saying that he lied for _years_ ," he asked quietly. "I...I can't imagine pretending to be Ron Weasley's friend for _seven years_ only to turn him over to be murdered once we were out of school."

"Of course you couldn't, lad," exclaimed Tom. "No right thinking person could! The Blacks had a lot of insanity in their background from what I heard. You-Know-Who's cruelest follower was Bellatrix Lestrange, who was born a Black. She was as mad as they come. No, it was that family. Not normal at all."

Harry thought about what Tom had told him for several long seconds. "So if Black was caught, why are there posters for him?"

"Well, he escaped, didn't he," said Tom. "First person to ever escape from Azkaban. And if'n he wasn't insane before, he would be after twelve years with dementors! He's bound to be incredibly dangerous now."

Harry blinked several times. "How did he escape? And what are dementors?"

Tom shook his head. "No one knows how he escaped. He just wasn't in his cell one morning from what I've read and overheard. And dementors…" Here he gave a visible shudder. "Dementors are what guard the prisoners in Azkaban. Some say they are tamed demons. Others say they are dark creatures. Can't say I know what they are, myself. All I know is that they don't eat and drink like us. They feed on feelings! It's said that they will draw all of the happiness out of a person, leaving only despair behind. It's why Black is considered so dangerous. They fed on him for twelve years."

Harry's face twisted into shocked disgust the more Tom explained. "That's…that's just awful! Wouldn't it be better to just execute them?"

"The dementors do that too, lad," Tom answered. "There's a punishment called the 'dementor kiss'. The things can actually suck the soul out of your body, leaving only an empty husk behind that dies shortly afterwards. There's no way to recover; the criminal's soul is lost forever."

Harry shuddered at the idea. "What's to stop these things from killing everyone," he asked.

"The Ministry has them under their control," Tom assured him. "They don't leave Azkaban. And don't you worry about Sirius Black. Once they find him, he'll get the Kiss for sure."

OoOoOoOo

The September train ride back to Hogwarts was a disaster. Apparently dementors had been ordered to track down the escaped criminal. They somehow caused the train to stop and boarded it to search for their prisoner. For some reason, all the lights went out when the dementors came aboard. Tom hadn't shared everything about the dementors, or perhaps he didn't know that they brought a cold with them that dropped the temperature so low the students could see their breath. Overwhelming fear poured over the children, and then something horrible stood in the doorway of Harry's compartment. Very tall, cloaked in black, but the hand that grasped the door frame was gray, slimy looking and scabbed. Harry heard a woman screaming before blackness overcame him.

Their Head of House, stood in the doorway of Hogwarts, watching the children as they arrived. "Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, come with me," Professor McGonagall commanded. She led the children to her office, where the school matron, Madame Pomfrey was waiting.

"Already having troubles before school begins, eh Mr. Potter," she said, casting a diagnostic spell over him.

Harry shook his head. Malfoy had already heard he had passed out, and he wondered who in the compartment had shared that tidbit. He wasn't a happy teen.

"I'm fine," he assured the Matron, hoping to escape her clutches.

"I'll be the judge of that," she replied firmly. "Stand still, Mr. Potter."

Harry sighed and then looked over at his Head of House. Here was a chance to follow up on a question that had been bothering him since Tom had first mentioned it. "Professor," he began, gaining her attention. "I heard a lot about Sirius Black in Diagon Alley and know the dementors are looking for him. Can you tell me if it's true that Sirius Black and my father were friends their entire time at Hogwarts?"

Surprise showed on the severe teacher's countenance for a moment. "That's neither here nor there, Mr. Potter," she stated severely, her lips thinning. "Is he fit for the feast," she asked the Matron.

Harry frowned at the obvious cold-shoulder. Every time he needed his Head of House for something, whether it was help with Snape's prejudices, the Philosopher's Stone, or the whole school shunning him for speaking Parseltongue, she provided no help. She was his father's Head of House for seven years, and never once shared information about James Potter with his orphaned son. Now he sought specific information from her and she refused to reply or even set up an appropriate time to discuss him. He had to admit that his respect for her eroded year by year.

"You are fit enough, Mr. Potter," Madame Pomfrey stated with a final wave of her wand. "I've ordered the kitchen to send up hot chocolate to all of the tables, and to include chocolate in the afters. Be sure you have some."

"Yes ma'am. Although Professor Lupin already gave us some on the train," Harry admitted.

"Did he now? It's a relief to finally have someone who knows that subject well," she stated in a pleased tone.

"Thank you, Madame Pomfrey," Professor McGonagall interrupted. "Off you go, Mr. Potter. Do as Madame Pomfrey said. Miss Granger, stay a moment."

Harry paused, intending to walk back with Hermione, but was shooed away by the Transfiguration professor, leaving his friend behind.

OoOoOoOo

Harry continued to look for more details about his father's Hogwarts years. He asked Hagrid, who told him about the four friends – James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. He told Harry that Black showed up at the Potter house the night his parents died when Hagrid was there and tried to take Harry. When Hagrid refused, Black gave him his motorcycle and said he was going after Pettigrew. Hagrid was horrified to learn that he not only killed Pettigrew, but a dozen Muggles as well. Only Pettigrew's finger was left after the fight. Harry was confused and asked what spell could have destroyed all but a single finger, but Hagrid didn't know.

Harry learned from Hermione that the police agency for the magical world was called the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, also known as the DMLE, and that their police officers were called Aurors. She told him that Susan Bones was the niece of the currently head of the department, Amelia Bones. On the way to Charms, Harry gathered his courage and made an effort to walk beside the red-headed Hufflepuff.

"Excuse me, Susan," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

The girl looked at the embarrassed teen and smiled. Boys were so funny sometimes. "Sure, Harry. What is it?"

"Well, I understand that your aunt is with the DMLE. I was wondering if you had any advice on how to find out about Sirius Black." At the girl's shocked look, he hurried to add, "I want to know if he ever gave a reason in his trial for his betrayal of my parents. I also wanted to know when he became a Death Eater. I mean, they were friends and dorm mates for seven years! I just don't understand how that could be." His voice was so filled with confusion that Susan felt sorry for his pain.

"Harry, why don't you send my Aunt a letter? Explain who you are and what information you're looking for. If you want, I'll write her myself and let her know to expect your letter."

The dark-haired teen gave her a brilliant smile. "Thank you, Susan. You're the best!" She couldn't help the blush that spread over her cheeks. When they arrived at the class room, she quickly wrote down her Aunt's address for him.

Later that night, Harry pulled out fresh parchment and tried to write with his best handwriting. He wished the Wizarding world used biros; he still struggled with a quill and ink even after two years.

 _Dear Madame Bones,_

 _My name is Harry Potter and I go to Hogwarts with your niece, Susan. She suggested that I write you to see if there is information you could share from Sirius Black's trial._

 _Firstly, I wondered whether Black said when he became a Death Eater, as I've learned he was friends with my father for all seven years at Hogwarts. Was he just pretending for all those years? Or did he join after they graduated?_

 _I'm also confused about what spell Black could have used on Peter Pettigrew after my parents died. I've been told that only a finger was left of the man, but I've never heard of any spell that could do that. Surely there would be other "pieces" found than a single finger?_

 _Lastly, the dementors somehow stopped the Hogwarts Express and came aboard. Only the fact that a teacher was on board who could cast the Patronus charm kept the students from being kissed. Dementors are now stationed all around Hogwarts, but what guarantee do we have that they won't enter the grounds to attack students, just as they did the train?_

 _Thank you for any information you can share._

 _Harry J. Potter_

Amelia Bones put down the letter with a frown. This was the first that she had heard about dementors almost kissing a student and she was concerned for her niece's safety along with the rest of the school. However, after reading Susan's letter the day before, she felt badly at how little Harry Potter knew about his parents and could understand trying to understand the motives of the murderer.

"Penelope," Amelia called out to her secretary. The young woman entered immediately. "Please go down to the Records Clerk and requisition the transcripts from Sirius Black's trial, as well as any interview notes."

"Yes ma'am," her secretary replied with a little surprise. However, she immediately left on her errand without questioning her superior, causing Amelia to smile. The young woman was a first-class assistant, and the older woman was pleased to have her.

In the Records office, Penelope requested the transcripts and any notes from the investigation and interviews. The clerk went to his files and pulled out a remarkably thin folder. The only thing it contained was a transfer order from the DMLE holding cells to Azkaban. The clerk withdrew his wand and tried, "Accio Sirius Black records", expecting the documents to come from another folder after having been misfiled. To his surprise, nothing came. "I'll keep looking," he said with confusion evident in his voice to Penelope, "but that should have found anything that was there." Penelope signed for the thin folder and returned to her boss.

Amelia was shocked at the lack of information, but she wasn't easily dissuaded. The former head of the DMLE who served at the time of Black's trial was Bartemius Crouch. He had been demoted to the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation when his own son was discovered to be a Death Eater. She decided to go to his office rather than summoning him to hers, hoping to make the tetchy man more relaxed.

Bartemius Crouch sat ramrod straight in his chair when Amelia knocked on his door. His rapidly graying hair was parted down the middle and he wore a precisely trimmed "toothbrush" mustache, which twitched a little when he saw his visitor.

"Amelia," he nodded at the woman. "What a surprise. Please come in." The invitation was offered with only a slight pause.

"Thank you, Barty," she responded, taking a seat although he hadn't offered one. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I'm hoping that you will be able to recall a specific instance from the end of the last war." At the man's shocked expression, she related the letter she had received from Harry Potter. "Of course, I requisitioned the transcripts from Black's trial, but the Clerk couldn't find anything. I wondered what you could remember of the investigation and trial that I could share with Mr. Potter."

"Yes, I can understand the lad's desire to know more," Crouch nodded. "I'm not surprised there isn't much there. The man confessed at the scene. His wand was snapped and he was sent directly to Azkaban because of his confession."

Amelia blinked. This wasn't what she expected at all; the man before her had basically confessed to dereliction of duty and subverting the judicial process!

"I see," she said slowly, trying to appear calm. "I'm surprised though. Bellatrix Lestrange was caught in the act and proudly confessed to her crimes as well, but she was tried for her crimes. What was different about Sirius Black's case that he was sent to Azkaban without a trial?"

"Minister Bagnold agreed that a trial of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's right hand would likely cause a near-riot. Because of his confession, his guilt wasn't in question. The Minister wanted to try to focus on recovery, not on delaying justice for an obviously guilty criminal."

"And the Minister wasn't concerned that the Heir of an Ancient and Noble House was imprisoned without a guilty verdict?"

Bartemius waved his hand dismissively. "Pureblood politics be damned. The man was a Death Eater. Justice was served with his imprisonment."

Several hours later, Amelia sat in Minister Fudge's office and explained the problem, trying to ignore her pounding headache. Fudge was horrified, not that a man was imprisoned without a trial, but that the Ministry would look bad. Amelia kept her face impassive and promised herself a stiff drink later for not losing her temper.

"What you should remember, Minister, is that any error was made by the _previous_ administration. By ordering a trial, you will be seen as the defender of justice. If he's found guilty, he will be sent back to Azkaban. If for some unknown reason he is somehow proven innocent, you will be seen as the man who ensured justice prevailed. And of course, you would then have the gratitude of the Ancient and Noble House of Black."

Cornelius Fudge was a fickle man, who responded to the flattery and bribes of the last person with whom he spoke. As he considered Madame Bones argument, he agreed that he couldn't lose. He would either prove himself better than the previous administration or he would fix their errors. Either way, he came out ahead.

"There is one other item to consider, Minister," Amelia added. "The dementors stopped and boarded the Hogwarts Express on September 1st. One almost kissed Harry Potter. If a teacher hadn't been aboard the train, he might have died, and that would have been our fault. If any heirs of Wizengamot members are harmed, the recriminations would fall on us."

"Oh Merlin," the portly man whispered. "I would never survive if Harry Potter had been kissed. What can we do?"

"My suggestion would be to return the dementors to Azkaban, where they are better controlled," she replied. "Then we change the 'kiss on sight' order to 'capture unharmed'. We'll place an article in the Daily Prophet about how the previous administration failed in their duty, and state that once apprehended, Black would be immediately tried before the Wizengamot."

"Yes, yes, do that," the man exclaimed. "Make sure everyone understands that this administration isn't at fault!"

OoOoOoOo

Several days later, a gaunt and filthy dog looking for anything edible in a trash bin, pulled out a newspaper. He carried it into the nearby forest and stopped in a hidden glade. The dog transformed into a gaunt and filthy man who stared at the headline "Black to be Tried When Apprehended". He read through the article. "Trying to trick me," he muttered. But what if it wasn't a trick? Amelia Bones was the Head of the DMLE, and he remembered her as a fair and honest woman.

He snuck into a house at the edge of Hogsmeade when everyone was out, and took parchment, ink and a quill. He quickly wrote a letter to Amelia Bones, asking for an unbreakable oath that he would survive to a trial and that he would be given Veritaserum. He summoned Kreacher, the remaining Black house elf. The elf was mostly insane, but would follow specific orders.

"Give this to Amelia Bones and wait for a reply," he ordered. "Do not tell her where I am. Do not allow any tracking charms on a response, on yourself, or on anything you wear or carry. Return here with her response when you have it, and do not bring anyone or anything else."

"Kreacher will do what nasty master orders. Poor mistress, how she would hate having the House of Black fall to such disgrace!" After disparaging his new master some more, he popped away to follow his instructions. An hour later, he returned with her answer on the same parchment that Black used and offered him her oath.

Within two days, Black surrendered to Amelia Bones. She allowed him a shower and a change of clothes, but he was then brought immediately before the Wizengamot on multiple counts of murder. To everyone's surprise, he willing submitted to three drops of Veritaserum and in full view of the Wizengamot as well as scores of spectators, he answered the questions posed by the Head of the DMLE.

"What is your full name and affiliations?"

"Sirius Orion Arcturus Black. I am the Heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Black and will be the Pater Familias when I am recognized as the Head of House."

"Are you now or have you ever been a Death Eater or follower of V..Voldemort?" Amelia was pleased that she only stuttered once on the name. The others in the room shifted uncomfortably as the name was stated.

"No, my family might have followed the Dark Wanker, but I never did." There were gasps as well as chuckles at the man's casual denunciation and insult.

"Were you the Secret Keeper for James and Lily Potter?"

"No, that was Peter Pettigrew." More gasps could be heard from those in attendance.

"What happened the night that the Potters died?"

"I went to see them, but the house had been attacked. James was dead in the living room. Lily was dead upstairs in the nursery, and it looked like a small explosion had gone off in there. Rubeus Hagrid from Hogwarts was there and had already picked up Harry, who thank Merlin was alive, but bleeding from his head. I asked Hagrid for Harry, since he was my godson and my responsibility, but he refused. Said that Dumbledore had sent him. I knew Dumbledore could protect him, so I gave Hagrid my motorcycle to get back to Hogwarts, and went looking for Pettigrew. As the Secret Keeper, he was the only one who could have led the Dark Wanker there."

Amelia looked at the Chief Wizard, who was staring at the Black Heir with some surprise.

"How did you kill Pettigrew?" The answer to this could still see the man back in Azkaban, unless the Wizengamot gave him leniency for his vengeance. She never expected his response and nearly staggered at the implications.

"I didn't kill him. I wanted to capture him and caught up with him in a Muggle neighborhood after two days of searching. He accused me of being the betrayer and cast lethal spells at me. I only cast shields, disarming spells and an incarcerous charm at him. He ultimately cast a blasting spell that must have hit one of those Muggle gas line things, because there was a huge explosion. I was knocked off my feet, but before I could recover, I saw him cut off his finger and then he transformed into his animagus form, a common brown rat, and escaped down the sewer."

"But…why did you confess to the Aurors that you were responsible for the Potters' deaths?"

"Because I _should_ have been the Secret Keeper! James asked me to, but I said I would be a decoy. I thought I could protect them better that way. Any Death Eaters could chase after me, and no one would expect meek little Peter of being the Secret Keeper. So it _was_ all my fault!" A tear ran down the man's cheek.

Amelia paused before asking trying to resolve all unanswered questions. "You claim Peter Pettigrew changed into an animagus form. He is not registered as an animagus."

"Of course not," Sirius scoffed, even though his voice was mostly monotone from the Veritaserum. "We were at war and needed every advantage we could get. What's a fine for not registering in comparison to that? All of us became animagi secretly while we were at Hogwarts. James was a stag, I'm a dog, and Peter was a rat. We started studying in our First Year and we all completed our transformations by our Fifth Year at Hogwarts. We wanted to keep the forms secret in case they could be used for the war against the Dark Wanker." Amelia noticed many of the Wizengamot members and those in the gallery nodding at the motivation.

"Dementors were posted around Hogwarts because of your comments, 'he's at Hogwarts' while you were in Azkaban. What did you mean?"

"Fudge let me have his newspaper when he was on his annual tour of the prison. It showed a picture of a family, and the youngest boy had a rat on his shoulder. The rat was Peter in animagus form! I recognized him immediately, plus the rat was missing a toe that corresponded to the finger that Peter cut off. That meant he was at Hogwarts and no one knew! I had to do what I could to protect my godson and the other children."

"You said you needed to protect your godson. Who is your godson," Amelia asked, already afraid that she knew the answer. She was already sick to her stomach that an innocent man had spent twelve years in hell without so much as an interview, but if what she thought was true…

"Harry Potter, of course," the man responded instantly, and only her iron will kept her face impassive. "I'm his oath-sworn godfather. That's why I couldn't believe that everyone thought I had betrayed the Potters. Not only was James closer than a brother, but I would have lost at least my magic and more likely my life if I had violated my oath to protect and care for Harry or attempted to cause him any harm. I expected it to come out at my trial, but I never got one until today."

Amelia saw that both Albus Dumbledore and Cornelius Fudge looked as ill as she felt. Her eyes drifted over to Bartemius Crouch, who was staring at Black in horror.

"Minister Fudge, Chief Warlock Dumbledore, honored members of the Wizengamot, the Department of Law Enforcement withdraws all charges against Sirius Orion Arcturus Black and recommends that he be released to medical care immediately."

She raised an eyebrow at Fudge, who gave a jerky nod of compliance. Dumbledore gravely intoned, "So ordered. Mr. Black will be sent immediately to St. Mungo's for medical care. Reparations will reviewed by a Wizengamot tribunal."

"Chief Warlock," Amelia interrupted before he could end the session. "The DMLE would like to convene a tribunal to discover whether any laws were violated…" At Fudge's frown, she added, "By the previous administration," and the Minister relaxed, "for the incarceration of Mr. Black and to report back to Wizengamot in the next thirty days."

To her surprise, most of the Wizengamot volunteered to be part of that tribunal, but Dumbledore succeeded in naming two members of the Light side and one moderate. That should ensure that members of the Dark couldn't subvert the process.

The next day, a picture of an emaciated and slightly confused Sirius Black graced the cover of the Daily Prophet with the title of "EXONERATED!" The details of the trial made it clear that it was the previous Minister and DMLE Director that subverted the process and imprisoned what was now known to be an innocent man who loved the Potters and was the oath-sworn Godfather to one Harry Potter. No reporters were allowed to interview the man, so they speculated on his physical and mental health, as well as his intentions towards his godson, Harry Potter.

The same morning that the newspaper was delivered to Hogwarts, Aurors arrived in the Gryffindor common room and quickly converged on the Third Year boys' dormitory. A few spells later, and they floated a bound, dirty man down the stairs and out of the school. Ron Weasley spent hours in the showers after learning that he had shared a bed with a grown man in animagus form.

"Mr. Potter," announced Professor McGonagall, surprising the boy as he poured over the Daily Prophet with Hermione. He turned to look at the stern woman.

"Yes, Professor," he asked politely, wanting to read more.

"The Headmaster would like to see you immediately after breakfast. I will accompany you."

"Um…okay Professor," he replied and watched as the woman strode to the staff table. "What do you think that's about, Hermione," he asked.

"Probably about Sirius Black," she responded.

"Well, yeah, but why would the Headmaster have anything to say?" Harry ran his hand through his hair trying to figure out what was coming.

"As the Chief Warlock, he was at the trial, Harry," his friend replied. "Perhaps he wants to give you additional information?"

"Guess I'll see shortly," the teen shrugged. When the plates had been vanished from the tables, he followed Professor McGonagall to the Headmaster's office. He was surprised to see Professor Lupin there as well. They climbed the stairs to the Headmaster's office and entered through the open door. Harry was surprised to see the man looked tired and sorrowful.

"Harry, please sit down, my boy," the Headmaster said with a slight smile. "I'm sure you've read about Sirius Black being found innocent of all charges against him." He looked at the boy across his desk, his eyes despondent.

"Yes sir," the dark-haired teen responded. "Is he really my Godfather? In his testimony, he said he was responsible for me. Does that mean I don't have to go back to the Dursleys?"

Dumbledore rubbed his nose at the cautious hope in the boy's voice. The willingness to leave the home where he spent the last twelve years made him wonder just what had happened there. Surely he hadn't condemned both of the boys to isolation and despair?

At the delay in his response, Remus Lupin spoke up. "Yes, Harry, Sirius is your Godfather, but more than just being named, he swore an oath on his magic and his life to do his best to protect you from harm and raise you should something happen to James and Lily. I wasn't there for the swearing of the oath, and thought he was just named as your Godfather. If anyone had known, he would never have been sent to Azkaban."

Harry looked at the tired and somewhat shabby Defense teacher. "Your name was in the paper as one of my Dad's friends, wasn't it, Professor Lupin?"

The older man cleared his throat before saying, "Yes, the four of us were very good friends throughout our years at Hogwarts. I believed the worst about Sirius in my grief over the loss of your parents and supposedly Pettigrew as well."

Harry didn't know how to respond to that. The graying man was obviously feeling guilty and miserable, almost as much as the Headmaster was. A quick glance at his own Head of House showed that she was looking at the Defense instructor with more compassion than he was used to seeing on her face. Not knowing what to do, he looked back at the Headmaster.

The elderly wizard realized the teen had no idea why he had been brought to see him. "Yes, well, Harry, Mr. Black will be hospitalized for some time to recover from his unfortunate imprisonment. I thought you might want to start a correspondence with him. Professor Lupin," he nodded at the Defense instructor, "is planning to see him over the weekend, and I thought he might deliver a letter for you. Perhaps just a hello and what classes your enjoy, something about your friends?"

"Sirius would love to know about your Quidditch experiences," Professor Lupin added with a smile. "He would be very proud to know you were the youngest seeker in a century."

Harry smiled at the idea of an adult being proud of him, someone who broke out of prison just because he thought Harry and the other students were in danger from a disguised Pettigrew. "I would like that," he said softly.

"Excellent," Professor Lupin smiled. "I would be happy to bring a letter to him. I don't know if he'll be able to write back right away, but I know he'll be eager to write as soon as he's able."

OoOoOoOo

Remus Lupin was uncomfortable when he entered Sirius Black's room at St. Mungo's. The guilt he felt for believing the worst of his friend and abandoning him to the hell of Azkaban weighed heavily on his shoulders. He was stunned to be greeted by the gaunt man who opened his arms from his hospital bed. Many tears and apologies later, he remembered to give Sirius the letter from Harry.

Sirius opened the parchment reverently, his hands shaking.

 _Dear Mr. Black,_

 _I was happy to learn that I had a Godfather. My friend, Ron Weasley explained about the oaths a Godfather swears and I am very sorry that you were thrown into prison without a trial after my parents died. I read about your trial this week in the Daily Prophet and can't believe what happened to you. I hope you are on the road to a speedy recovery._

 _Professor Lupin thought you might like to know about my classes, friends, and Quidditch. My best friends are Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. All three of us are in Gryffindor. My favorite class is Defense against the Dark Arts, although I like Charms and Transfiguration as well. I'm not very good at Potions and fall asleep in History of Magic. I'm okay in Herbology and Astronomy. I just started Divination and Care of Magical Creatures this year, but am thinking that perhaps I should have taken Ancient Runes or Arithmancy with Hermione._

 _In my first year, I was made the Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I haven't missed the Snitch in the last two years._

 _I would like to get to know you, if that's okay with you. When you're feeling better, perhaps you could write me?_

 _Sincerely,_

 _Harry Potter_

"He called me 'Mr. Black'," Sirius frowned. "I remember when he used to call me 'Siri' or 'Pafood'. But he was made the Gryffindor Seeker in his first year! James would have been so proud of him! And he likes Transfiguration and Charms, just like James and Lily." He smiled at his old friend, with slightly teary eyes.

"Tell me about him," he asked softly.

"He's a bit quiet," Moony started. "He doesn't like attention much, unlike his father." Both men smiled at the memory of their friend. "He's very close friends to the youngest of the Weasley boys and a Muggleborn girl. The three of them are pretty much inseparable. He's a genius on a broom; it's like a part of his body. If he was an animagus, it would probably be something like a falcon the way that he can fly. He has James messy bedhead hair and Lily's bright green eyes."

The scarred man talked quietly until his friend fell asleep, exhausted from their emotional reunion as well as his damaged health. Remus was worried about his old friend, and still carried a great deal of guilt for believing him possible of betraying James and Lily. He couldn't believe how quickly the man forgave him.

He didn't dare express his concerns about Harry to the man, yet. The boy was short for his age, underweight and his Muggle clothes were shabby and threadbare. Even Remus had better clothing, and he had been living in poverty before taking the position at Hogwarts this year. He was horrified to learn that Dumbledore had left the toddler with Lily's sister; the Marauders all knew how the sister had turned on Lily once she was invited to Hogwarts. If she treated Lily's son with the same hatred she treated her own sister, Sirius would be both furious and heartbroken.

After watching the emaciated man sleep for an hour, he quietly left parchment, a quill, and an ink pot on the bedside table where Sirius could easily see it before slipping out of the room. He sincerely hoped that Sirius and Harry would find a way to become a family. He thought they needed on another. And maybe, just maybe, they would find room in their little family for an old wolf as well.

OoOoOoOo


	7. Chapter 7 - The House of Potter

What if Harry Potter found out about his heritage from Sirius Black after his Third Year and didn't share everything with Hermione? Warning - Hermione devotees may want to skip this story.

OoOoOoOo

Harry Potter slipped away from the Dursley house and headed to the park several blocks away. He looked around expectantly, and smiled when he saw a large black dog bound out from the bushes, and then head back into them and the small corpse of trees behind them. He quickly followed.

As he entered the tiny clearing, the dog morphed into a thin man with dark hair and a dark goatee. "Sirius!" Harry exclaimed and walked into the open arms the man held out to him. They held a tight embrace for several seconds, and released before either of them felt uncomfortable.

"Merlin, it's good to see you, Pup," said his godfather. "How are the Muggles treating you?"

"It's good to see you too, Sirius," smiled Harry. "And the Dursleys are the same as always. A lot of chores, but they're ignoring me more than yelling at me, so it's all good." He scrutinized the older man. While still thin, he wasn't as emaciated as he had been two months earlier. His clothes appeared well made, but hung slightly on his frame. His hair was cut and styled nicely, though. All in all, he looked much better than the last time the teen had seen the escaped prisoner.

"Freedom has done wonders for you, Padfoot," he added, using his godfather's nickname. "You're looking much better. But should you be here? I thought you were recuperating out of Britain."

His godfather frowned slightly. "I'm the one that should be worrying about _you_ , Pup." The teen opened his mouth to deny the need, but quieted as the older man held up his hand. "I need to talk to you, Harry, and I was worried that letters would take too long. I promise I'll hightail it out of here again as soon as we're done."

The two sat down, further hiding themselves in the small glade, which was surrounded by thick bushes. It was a good place to meet, close to the playground, but tucked out of sight. Sirius took out a wand and cast a " _Homenum Revelio_ " spell, to ensure there were no hidden wizards or witches nearby. He then cast a proximity alert before putting his wand away.

"Harry, there are things that I would have taught you growing up, if I hadn't been imprisoned, things every pureblood or half-blood witch or wizard should know. For example, although my name is Sirius Black, you may not know that I am the Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Black. An Ancient House is one that has existed for more than 30 generations. A Noble House is one that has a title attached. Even though my dear old mother tried to disinherit me, only the Head of the House can disinherit a House member, and my father never did that. With his death, I became the Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Black. I am The Black of Black and have the title of Lord Black."

"Wow, Sirius, I didn't know you were noble," exclaimed Harry. "That's impressive! I've never heard anyone referred to as ' _The'_ and a surname before. Is there anything like that for the Potters?"

"The Head of a House is referred to as 'The' surname, as you called it", his godfather replied. "It means that person is the embodiment of the House, the highest authority. And yes, the Potters are a House." At his godson's inquiring look, the older man suppressed another urge to swear. "There are Families and then there are Houses. A House has to have existed more than fifteen generations. The Potters have existed for twenty generations and are nearly at Ancient status. In pureblood circles, you would be known as Heir Potter." He held up a hand that bore a heavy gold signet ring with a blood red ruby. "This is my Head of House ring. No one but the Head of House could wear it. Anyone attempting it would be severely injured if they to wear it without being next in line to inherit. You should be wearing an Heir's ring yourself. However, for whatever reason, Albus Dumbledore hasn't made your heritage and inheritance available to you. Maybe he thought the Muggles wouldn't approve. Maybe he never thought about it. The Dumbledores don't have House status, so perhaps it never even occurred to him."

"But what does it mean," asked Harry, frowning slightly in puzzlement.

"You are the Heir of the House of Potter. You will become the Head of House upon your majority, or _The Potter_ of Potter. You will have a seat in the Wizengamot, the governing body. The Potters were part of the Wizard's Council before the Wizengamot was formed, so it is a well-known House with a rich heritage. We should have had years to explore your birthright as you grew up, but we need to work with what we have."

He reached out and took his godson's hand. "Harry, this is important. You need to go to Gringotts unseen. You need to get to the Potter Family vault, and get your Heir's ring. It's not just a ring; it has protections on it that will help you. James told me that all Potter rings have a charm to counteract any type of mind magic. That means, it will keep your thoughts private and prevent any mind control spells, like a compulsion charm."

The teen's face scrunched up in disgust. "Keep my thoughts private? Are you telling me that people can read or hear my thoughts?"

Sirius twisted his lips in a grimace. "Yes, there is a branch of magic that deals exclusively with mind magic. Occlumency helps guard and organize your mind. Legilmency is the opposite. It can give the caster the ability to stroll through the layers of the mind and interpret feelings. Wearing your Heir's ring will keep anyone from using Legilmency successfully against you. I know that Albus Dumbledore is a master Occlumens and Moony thinks Snape might be as well." His voice twisted with disgust at Snape's name.

Harry felt physical ill. He hated the very idea that someone could read his thoughts, much less his hated Potions professor. He would find a way to get to the goblin bank!

"But that's not all you need at Gringott's, Pup. Every Head of House keeps a journal. It will detail the House's interaction with other Houses, any contracts or alliances, loans made or debts incurred, what's happening in the Wizengamot and the Houses' votes, and general details about family life. You should have twenty generations of journals that will teach you everything you need to know about the Potter history."

Harry's eyes widened as Sirius explained about the journals. He could learn about his family! He felt a physical ache in his chest at the sudden burning desire to get his hands on those journals. "Did my father keep a journal," he asked hesitantly.

"Yes," smiled Sirius tenderly in remembrance. "He was raised quite traditionally." The man's smile faded slightly. "I don't know if his journal was recovered from the house…after. But if it was, it will be in the Family vault."

"Sirius," Harry said doubtfully and somewhat sadly, "I've seen my vault. And while there's a lot of coins in it, I don't remember seeing any journals."

Sirius barked out a laugh. "That's your Trust vault, Pup. Every child is given a Trust vault at birth in the old Families and Houses. There should be enough to pay for your education and entertainment. Beyond that, there is a Potter Family vault. That's where the Heir ring and Head of House ring will be, as well as the journals. Oh! And the Family Grimoire, of course."

"What's a 'grimoire'," asked Harry, stumbling slightly over the unfamiliar word.

"What's a grimoire? What are they teaching you at Hogwarts?" The older man growled a few cuss words, causing Harry's eyes to widen. After a few seconds, he calmed down and looked embarrassed at Harry's surprised, but amused expression. He took a deep breath and blew it out. "Sorry about that. This is what you should have been raised with." He shook his head in regret. "OK, you have text books for each class at Hogwarts, right?" At Harry's nod, he continued. "A grimoire is a book of spells and instructions on how to cast and use those spells. A Family Grimoire are spells that are unique and private to the Family. So the Black or Potter Family Grimoires would contain spells known only to the Family. They are likely spells developed by Family members and kept within the Family. The Grimoire can only be read by a member of the Family, and sometimes, even then the Head of House has to give permission for them to access it. Each Grimoire is warded to only allow a Family member access and will harm someone who tries to steal it or access it without permission. The Black Grimoire requires a drop of blood onto the lock with the first use. I don't know whether the Potter Grimoire has that or not. As close as James and I were, I never saw the Potter Family Grimoire. They are very private. In fact, it's actually illegal to try to access a Family Grimoire without explicit permission, not that thieves won't try. Proprietary spells can be quite valuable."

"What kind of spells would be in the Potter Grimoire," asked Harry.

Sirius chuckled. "If you can think of it, it's probably in there, considering how old the House of Potter is. Since the Potters began as pottery makers hundreds of years ago, the oldest spells are probably geared towards the creation of earthenware or maybe porcelain crockery. But for last several generations, the Potters were known for their wards, so you might have quite a few exclusive spells focused on protections and barriers." He thought for a moment and then added, "I wouldn't be surprised if Lily had started a Grimoire of her own. She created her own Charms and was planning a Mastery in it. If she had, that would be in the Family vault as well, although James might have had her add her spells to the Potter Grimoire."

"I'm not sure how I can get to Gringotts, Sirius. Even getting away to this park was hard. All the way to London and back will take all day, and Aunt Petunia wouldn't allow it," the teen said dejectedly.

"Pup! You wound me," Sirius said with a grin. "Do you think I would tempt you with this if I didn't come up with a way to get you there?" He reached into his pocket and drew out a fifty pence coin which he handed to his godson. "Moony is better with portkeys than I am, so he enchanted this. Hold it and say 'Diagon Alley' and it will take you to the courtyard behind the Leaky Cauldron. Tap the bricks three up and two across. Go to Gringotts and let a teller know that you need to visit the Potter Family vault, but was never given the key. They'll make you prick your finger to get blood confirmation that you are allowed access and should make a new key for you, at a charge of course. Probably charge you for the authentication and the key; they're greedy buggers. Once you have the key, it's a ride down to the Vault and then you can get your ring, journals and Grimoire. I expect there are probably mokeskin bags in the Vault, but just in case," he rummaged through his pockets until he drew out a small bag, "take this one."

Harry looked at the small bag. It didn't look like it would hold much. He looked up at Sirius questioningly.

"Enchanted, Harry," the older man said with a chuckle. "It's bigger on the inside. What's nice about a mokeskin bag is that only the owner can get access it, as long as the items are fully enclosed." He withdrew his wand and cast " _De translatione dominii_ _Harry Potter_ " and nodded. "There, now you own it. It should hold all of the journals and the Grimoire."

Harry took the bag and surprised them both by hugging the man. "Thank you, Sirius," he whispered. "No one has ever told me as much or helped me as much as you have."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you growing up, Pup," he whispered back. "You should have grown up with this."

"It's OK," Harry said leaning back. "I'm just glad I have it and you now."

Several hours later, the two left the park. Sirius used a separate port key to return to his sanctuary, where Remus was helping him recover physically and mentally from his imprisonment. "It was a worthwhile visit, Moony," he said with a smile. "We talked a lot. There's so much he didn't know. No one talks to him about James or Lily. He had no idea about Houses or the Potter Family, but he's going to be OK. He's really excited about getting his hands on the Potter journals. He's going to go to Gringotts tomorrow and said 'thank you' for the portkey."

OoOoOoOo

Harry returned from Gringotts wearing two rings and with the mokeskin bag filled with journals as well as a large Potter Family Grimoire. In his next letter to his godfather, he wrote about the visit.

 _You can imagine my surprise when Griphook offered me another Heir ring to the Ancient and Noble House of Black. When were you going to tell me that you made me your heir, you git? I mean, I'm honored, but you should marry and have puppies of your own!_

 _I currently have the Black ring on my left hand ring finger and the Potter ring on my right hand. Let me know if they should be worn differently._

 _The oldest of the family journals are a bit difficult to read, as they're in Middle English and are hard to follow. I may need to use a translation spell once I'm back at Hogwarts to be able to understand them. I didn't find my father's journal, which was disappointing, but I did find one by Charlus Potter, who talks about his son James, so I think it's my grandfather. Was that his name?_

 _Besides reading the newer journals, I've been having fun reading through the Family Grimoire. It's divided into beginner, intermediate, apprentice and master spell sections. Under each section, the information is further divided into Personal, Household or Family spells. Plus there are sections for Rites and Rituals! Reading through those, I was fascinated by a seasonal ritual that the Head of House performed that involved gifts and an oath to the faeries on Potter property in order to receive their blessings. Do you know if there is any Potter property left?_

 _There is so much information in the Grimoire, I'm guessing it will take me all the way through my Seventh Year at Hogwarts to finish it. I can't thank you enough for telling me about the journals and Grimoire!_

 _I also found that I've been feeling better since wearing the rings. I've had headaches as long as I can remember, but they've almost totally disappeared since wearing the rings. Odd, isn't it, but I'm not complaining._

Over the summer, between letters from Sirius and access to the Potter journals, Harry learned a great deal about his place in wizarding society.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _It's really no surprise that you're my heir. Not only are you my godson, but your grandmother was Dorea Black who married your grandfather, Charlus Potter. So you are the grandson and godson of a Black. The next closest Heir would be Draco Malfoy. His mother was a Black and my cousin, but I prefer we avoid making a Malfoy the Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Black. So until I find a lovely lady upon whom I'm willing to grace my gorgeous self, you'll have to suck it up, Pup!_

 _The fact that wearing your Heir rings makes you feel better is something we'll want to investigate further, but that can wait until I'm back in the country. We should have an independent Healer check you out to make sure you don't have any lingering effects from the Killing Curse all those years ago. While I love Poppy Pomfrey, she's not a Healer, she's a mediwitch. She's fully qualified for things that could go wrong in school, but we'll want a specialist for anything more complicated, like a dark curse. However, the fact that you're feeling better tells me that getting your Heir ring was a good thing!_

 _I don't know about the Potter ring, but if you want to hide the Black ring, just tap it with your wand and say "Celaverimus". That will active a concealment rune on the ring, but as you aren't actually casting a spell, it won't register as underage magic. "_ _Revelabit_ _" will reveal it again._

 _I don't know if you're aware of it, but you can order books from Flourish and Blott's by owl. Moony recommends "British Politics" by Iohannes Trayle. He says it gives a good introduction to the Ministry and the Wizengamot as it transitioned from the original Wizard's Council._

Harry followed the advice and ordered the book using Hedwig. He was delighted to receive not only the book, but a catalog of everything he could order. Again following his godfather's advice, he bought a book on customs and traditions, plus he used Hedwig to order meals from Tom at the Leaky Cauldron. He was surprised to learn that the pub owner could charm a basket to stay fresh and pack it with seven days' worth of food. When Hedwig returned the empty basket, Tom would refill it. That way, Harry was sure to have one good and filling meal every day. Between the chores the Dursleys gave him, all the studying he was doing and the letters from Sirius, the summer passed very quickly and he was soon on his way back to Hogwarts.

OoOoOoOo

Harry finished the remainder of his Charms homework and put it away in his book bag. He noticed that Ron and Hermione were still writing. Knowing Hermione, she was probably writing a foot more than Flitwick had requested and Ron was probably trying to write extra-large just to make the minimum length. He hid a grin from his friends and decided that while they finished their homework, he would see if there were comparable charms identified in his Family Grimoire. He removed the mokeskin bag he wore around his neck, opened it and removed the Grimoire. He always chuckled as his hand disappeared inside the small bag, and a huge book was withdrawn.

The sound drew Hermione's attention. "Harry, what are those," asked the brown-haired girl, eying the bag and Grimoire. "I've never seen either of those before."

"This is a mokeskin bag," he began, but was interrupted by Ron.

"Oh, I've heard of those before. I think Bill has one to carry some of his curse-breaking tools. Larger on the inside, right? Those are brilliant! Where did you get it?"

Harry nodded at his red-headed friend and said, "Padfoot gave it to me this summer. It gives me a place to hold the Potter Grimoire and journals."

Ron looked impressed. "You have the original Potter Grimoire? Dad has a copy of the Weasley Grimoire, but the original is with our Uncle William. Dad was a younger son, so only has a copy. I've only seen the most basic spells so far."

Hermione looked fascinated with the large handwritten book. "What's in your Grimoire, Harry?" When both boys looked at her with uneasiness, she added, "What's the matter? Here, let me see." She held her hand out for the large book.

"Um, Hermione, you…you don't ask to see a Family Grimoire," said Ron with a mixture of embarrassment and shock.

"Why not? It's just a book of spells, isn't it?" She continued to hold her hand out towards Harry.

"Actually, Hermione, a Family Grimoire is exactly that," replied Harry. "It's specific to the Family. It's not to be shared or revealed to anyone outside of the Family. Since you didn't know, I don't take offense, but it's actually considered rude to ask to see someone's Family Grimoire."

"Why would spells be considered exclusive," asked their friend with a frown. "Knowledge is meant to be shared!"

"Because many of the spells were developed by Family members for use exclusively by the Family. It's the same as anything that's patented in the Muggle world." At the girl's persistent frown, Harry continued, "For example, generations ago, my Family were actually potters, making ceramic and porcelain dishes. If they devised a spell to make their wares a certain color, that would remain a Family secret because it made their pottery unique. See?"

"Well, yes, I can understand that," their friend admitted. "But surely there are some unrestricted spells that you can share with me?"

Harry tried not to sigh. He should have known their friend's thirst for knowledge would perceive a confidential book as holding secrets to be exposed. He decided to remove the temptation and slid the book back into the bag as he said, "I'm sorry, but the entire Grimoire is limited to members of the Potter Family, Hermione. Like most Grimoires, it's protected to keep non-family members from using it."

Neither Harry nor Ron could miss the way her brown eyes followed the book as it disappeared into the mokeskin bag or the way she frowned.

Two days later, Neville Longbottom stopped Harry in the dorm room before the teen got into bed. "Harry," he said hesitantly.

"Yeah, Neviille?"

"Um, I wanted…err…thought you should know," the boy stuttered and shifted uncomfortably.

"What's up?" He gave the other teen an encouraging nod.

"Well, it's just…it's Hermione. She was asking me about Grimoires and whether they're really confidential…" He trailed off as the other boys in the room became interested in the conversation.

Harry sighed in exasperation, but Ron's quick temper ignited. "She didn't believe us? We told her they were restricted to the Family!"

"I tried to explain," the shy teen responded quickly. "I told her that I still don't have full access to the Longbottom Grimoire and I'm the next Head of House. She seemed a bit offended that 'purebloods were hoarding knowledge'."

"Well that's just silly," said Seamus from the other side of the room. "My Mum started a Grimoire and it's mostly made up of common spells, but it's still not something that's open to anyone who walks in the house! And I'm a half-blood."

Neville nodded. "I even tried to explain that my Father added spell chains using known spells, but that the combination was something he came up with and used during the War. She thought that if it helped him, it should have been shared with anyone who was fighting."

Dean frowned and shook his head. "But then, the Death Eaters would have learned of it and prepared for it. That doesn't make sense."

"It's Hermione and knowledge," muttered Ron as he climbed into his bed. "She thinks that just because she wants to know something, she's got a right to the information." He growled and drew his bed curtains shut with a snap.

"I didn't mean to cause a problem," Neville uttered, looking down.

"No worries, Nev," Harry said with a smile. "We all know what Hermione's like with her desire to learn everything that can be learned. She'll come around, eventually."

OoOoOoOo

Hermione was one frustrated teenager. Harry had access to new and possibly fascinating spell information, and he was refusing to share it with her! Although both Ron and Neville confirmed that families kept their Grimoires confidential, she wasn't sure she believed that the book was spelled to keep others from reading it. The more she thought about it, the more curious she became. What could possibly be so important that it had to be kept confidential to the Potters?

She watched Harry closely, and noticed that he kept the Grimoire in the mokeskin bag, and that the bag was on him at all times. She was itching to browse through it and just biding her time until he left either the bag or book unattended.

Near the end of September, Harry was involved in a mid-air collision with another player during a weekend ad hoc Quidditch game.

"I'm fine," he insisted to the pick-up captain, Angelina Johnson. "Really, it's just a few scrapes and bruises."

"Yeah, and I'll be the one Madame Pomfrey tracks down if you don't go see her, since I was the organizer" replied the pretty Gryffindor. With that, she grabbed him by the arm and didn't let go until she thrust him into the Infirmary.

A few minutes later, he was installed in a bed and advised to wait one hour for the healing potion to complete its work. Harry grumbled, but had to chuckle when Neville waved to him cheerfully from the next bed. "What are you in for," he asked good-naturedly to his fellow Gryffindor.

"I was helping Professor Sprout in Greenhouse 2 and was bitten by magical spider mites," admitted the talented young herbologist. "Their bites have a mild venom, so Madame Pomfrey wants me to sleep it off under her supervision."

The two boys talked for a couple of minutes, until Harry noticed Neville's eyes getting heavy. "Go ahead and sleep, Nev," he grinned. "I'll just study for a while until Madame Pomfrey lets me go." The shy Gryffindor nodded and settled down for a nap, so Harry took out his Grimoire. He was rapidly becoming fascinated with warding and enjoyed reading about the spells and their uses.

However, within a few minutes, Ron and Hermione came to see him to make sure he wasn't seriously hurt, so he tucked the Grimoire back in the mokeskin bag, which was on the side table, but failed to fully insert it, leaving it partly visible.

"Are you OK, Harry," asked Hermione. "That looked like a hard hit."

"That was a good pick-up game," Ron enthused. "I can't believe they canceled Quidditch just for this Tournament. Why couldn't they run both?"

"I'm fine, but thanks, Hermione. And I don't know, Ron. With only one champion per school, that leaves the rest of us without much to do this year."

As the two boys complained about the lack of House Quidditch games and no Cup, Hermione noticed that Harry's Grimoire was visible on the side table. Her eyes flicked between it and the talking boys, her hand inching forward.

"Just a moment, Mr. Potter," said Madame Pomfrey, coming up and casting a diagnostic spell. "Let me see if you're ready to leave." While both boys were watching the Matron, Hermione decided that this was her chance to look at the spell book. She reached out to pick it up, but even as her hand grasped for the Grimoire, Ron shouted, "Hermione! Don't touch that!"

Hermione scowled at the ginger teen for bringing attention to her even as she still attempted to pick up the book. She immediately felt an intense sting, and dropped the tome as she yelped in pain. Her sharp yell woke Neville up, who quickly figured out what had happened.

"Oh for Merlin's sake," Harry muttered as he looked at his friend holding her hand to her chest as she stared at the Grimoire in shock. "Why can't you keep your hands to yourself? Why do you assume that you have the right to take what doesn't belong to you?"

Hermione stared at the book with suspicion, even as Madame Pomfrey ran her wand over the hand that was still tingling and appeared burned. "I only wanted to look at it! What happened?"

Harry just shook his head and scowled at her, while Ron opened and closed his mouth, too shocked to actually respond. Finally Neville said from the next bed, "Hermione, I _told_ you that Family Grimoires are spelled to prevent them from being stolen; they typically contain multiple protective curses as well as blood wards." He was going to elaborate on the Longbottom protections, but the bushy-haired girl interrupted him.

"Harry James Potter, how dare you keep a cursed book," she exploded. "You should turn it over to Professor Dumbledore immediately! It's obviously dangerous as well as cursed. He'll do what it takes to make sure it's safe."

All three boys gaped at her in disbelief. Harry noticed that even Madame Pomfrey had stopped waving her wand over Hermione's hand as she glared at the girl in astonishment. "Miss Granger, if that is a Family Grimoire, there is nothing wrong or dangerous with the book. Your own actions caused your injury. I can't imagine why you felt you had the right to touch something belonging to an Heir of a House without his express permission. If you had attempted to take a Grimoire that belonged to anyone other than your good friend, you might be facing charges with the DMLE. "

Hermione stared at the outraged Matron incredulously. "But…the book is cursed! Neville said so. Harry should give it to Professor Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall..." She trailed off as each of the boys shook their heads.

Seeing that Harry looked upset and that Ron's temper was close to exploding, Neville tried again. "Hermione, I tried to tell you how private Grimoires are to their Families. By trying to access the Potter Grimoire without permission, you violated centuries old customs and at least one law with your actions. Now you are demanding that the future Head of House Potter shouldn't be allowed his Family Grimoire without the approval of someone who isn't even a member of the House. You had no justification to attempt to access a Potter Family heirloom and certainly have no right to discuss its use." Although rather timid, Neville added with unusual firmness, "Your behavior is extremely offensive."

Ron finally regained enough of his voice to mutter angrily, "It's just like the Firebolt. You went tattling to McGonagall and they nearly destroyed Harry's broom. You just have to butt in to things that don't concern you and insist that your opinion is the only one that matters. You always claim that our culture and traditions are out-of-date and worthless and that we should adapt to your muggle culture and traditions." He threw up his hands and said to Harry, "I can't deal with her putting down our way of life any more. Maybe you can make her understand. I have to leave before I say something that earns me a Howler from Mum." He stomped out of the Infirmary.

Hermione stared after him, and took a deep breath, starting to get angry at the multiple criticisms.

Madame Pomfrey derailed the coming rant by saying grimly, "I believe you need to spend some time in serious reflection, Miss Granger. Even I have heard some of your tirades, and I have to admit that you come across as not only intolerant, but remarkably stubborn as well. You seem to believe that after three years in our society, you know better than anyone else how our millennia-old culture should be, and you seem determined to convince everyone to conform to your personal view of right and wrong."

The older woman shook her head at the girl as Hermione opened her mouth to refute the comments. "Touching something that belongs to someone else without their express approval is both rude and inappropriate, regardless of whether it is a Family Grimoire or any other belonging. You were in the wrong and you caused the book's protections to enact. I will have to inform your Head of House of your behavior. It's beyond time for you to learn that you need to adapt to our society, not demand that society conform to your limited knowledge and expectations."

OoOoOoOo

Author's Note: While Hermione has a good heart and I like her as a character, she does come across as officious and overbearing at times (after all, no one is perfect). Although I highlighted this aspect of her character in this story, I also like to portray her as a heroine as well.


	8. Chapter 8 - Parsel-what?

**Chapter 8 – A Parsel-what?**

What If Harry reacted differently to the snake that Draco conjured during the dueling scene in "Chamber of Secrets"?

OoOoOoOo

Harry Potter narrowed his eyes as the Potions Master bent over to whisper instructions to Draco Malfoy on their upcoming match in Gilderoy Lockhart's new Dueling Club. Snape made no secret of his hatred for Harry and his persistent bullying behavior towards the boy had been returned with well-earned loathing. The Gryffindor had no idea what the man's instructions were, but he knew it was meant to either injure or humiliate him.

Harry probably shouldn't have been surprised when Malfoy cast before the countdown to start was completed, but he was and he was blasted off his feet. He immediately jumped up and cast " _Rictusempa_ " at the blonde, causing the Slytherin to bend over, wheezing. Lockhart tried to call out instructions to the two, but Harry was only paying attention to his opponent.

" _Serpensortia_!" Malfoy called out. To the Gryffindor's shock, the tip of the Slytherin's wand exploded with a black light which coalesced in to a long black snake.

He realized that Snape was smiling with amusement as he said, "Don't move, Potter. I'll get rid of it for you."

Before he could cast, Lockhart said, "Allow me!" He waved his wand, and with a loud bang, the snake flew into the air and landed near the watching students. It hissed in anger and slithered directly towards Justin Finch-Fletchley, a Hufflepuff who had just introduced himself to Harry a few minutes earlier. The students around the boy screamed in panic.

Harry felt oddly calm despite the fear around him. Snakes had always been some of his only friends growing up. The garter snakes that lived around his Aunt's yard had always warned him if they felt the ground tremors when any of the Dursleys or Dudley's gang came up behind him as he worked in the yard.

The large black serpent raised up, fangs exposed. "No one move!" called Harry. " _Leave him alone_ ," he demanded of the snake. The serpent turned its head and stared at him, so Harry motioned it towards himself, but when Justin shifted nervously, the snake turned its attention back to the Hufflepuff.

Harry took a step forward and shouted " _I said, leave him alone!_ " When the snake stared back at him with its unblinking eyes, Harry gestured towards Draco Malfoy. " _That's the one that brought you here and put you in danger._ " The snake's head turned towards the Slytherin and the blonde boy gulped and rapidly took several steps back, his wand visibly shaking as he tried to point it at the black serpent. The snake began following the retreating boy, hissing threats. Snape waved his wand and the snake vanished in a puff of smoke before it reached Malfoy. The hooked nose man then looked at Harry with a calculating expression.

Harry ignored the Potions Master and looked back at Hufflepuff boy. "Okay there, Finch-Fletchley? The snake was pretty angry and you were the closest to him. Fortunately, it seemed willing to listen to me when I told it to leave you alone."

"You…you're a parselmouth," exclaimed the Hufflepuff boy, apprehension evident in his quivering voice.

Harry raised his eyebrows in confusion at the boy's obvious fear. "A parsel-what?"

"It means that you can talk to snakes," interrupted Hermione. She opened her mouth to explain everything she knew about it, but her dark-haired friend nodded once and began speaking again.

"Well, yeah," Harry agreed. "I've always been able to talk to reptiles, whether they were snakes or lizards. Even the tortoise and the Komodo dragon at the zoo had a few things to say to me, although the Komodo dragon's conversation was mostly about how annoying it was for people to tap on her window." He looked around, surprised by the shock and even fear he saw on the other students' faces.

"Wait, you spoke to a _dragon_ , Potter," asked one of the Ravenclaws, curiosity about this new knowledge overcoming his fear.

"Well, that's what muggles called it. She was really a six-foot long lizard; kind of cute, actually." Harry shrugged. "Once I found out about magic last year, I figured talking to creatures must be a magic thing, but I couldn't get any animals or birds to talk back to me, just reptiles." He looked at the Ravenclaw boy. "I only found out last year that there are real flying, fire-breathing dragons out there." He grinned at the memory of the baby dragon Hagrid had hatched. "I wonder what they would have to say."

"I think that perhaps this Club is over for the night," interrupted Snape smoothly. "We've had enough excitement for one day. Everyone may return to their common rooms."

"Yes, thank you, Professor Snape," Lockhart interjected. "It was very thrilling. I'm sure the next dueling club meeting will be just as exciting." Snape rolled his eyes at the fop's hyperbole.

"Come on, Harry," Ron said, grabbing the boy's arm. "Let's go." He began dragging the boy out of the room with Hermione on Harry's other side. Many of the other students followed slowly, as if they wanted to observe the Gryffindors, but didn't want to get too close.

"What's the deal, Ron," asked Harry. "Why were they looking at me as if ordering the snake not to attack someone was bad?"

"It wasn't that you saved Finch-Fletchley," interrupted Hermione, keeping pace with the two boys. "It was the fact that you were hissing and speaking to a snake. Many think that's a dark trait."

"I was hissing? Huh, it sounds like English to me. But how can saving someone from being bitten by a probably poisonous snake possibly be _dark_ ," exclaimed the astonished boy.

"Because Salazar Slytherin was a parselmouth," replied Ron. "That's why a snake is their House symbol. And You-Know-Who was a parselmouth as well. And with the whole 'Heir of Slytherin' scare going around, people will think it's _you_."

"Oh for goodness sake," Harry said, stopping in the hallway. "My _Mum_ was muggle-born. I was raised by muggles and never even knew I was a wizard or that magic was real until my eleventh birthday. And suddenly people will think I'm dark at twelve years old because I can speak to reptiles? What kind of sense does that make? Why would I be judged by what language I can speak rather than by my actions? Have I _ever_ acted dark or evil? No! In fact, I just saved a boy from being bitten! How is that _dark_?"

The crowd of students following the trio had paused when Harry had stopped and were listening to every word. Justin Finch-Fletchley was also a muggleborn wizard. He had a place reserved at Eton when he received the Hogwarts letter and his life changed dramatically. His parents had raised him with a strict code of conduct, and listening to Potter, he realized that the Gryffindor was right; the boy had saved him from being bitten so why was Justin questioning whether the boy was evil?

Justin stepped around the other students and towards the trio. He shook off Ernie Macmillian's hand when the boy tried to grab him and keep him from getting closer to the Gryffindors. "Potter," Justin called out.

Harry turned and looked at the Hufflepuff. "Yeah, Justin?"

Justin gave a half bow. "Thank you for calling out to the snake and stopping it from biting me. I don't know snakes that well, but it looked a lot like a Black Mamba. They're very poisonous."

Harry's face broke into a shy smile at the other boy's gratitude. "I'm happy I could help," he replied. "If it was poisonous, it's almost a shame Snape got rid of it before it could bite Malfoy for bringing it here."

Justin couldn't help grinning back at the Gryffindor's infectious smile. "He would have deserved it. He jumped the count in your duel and then summoned a possibly deadly snake. I'll bet they don't even deduct any points from him."

"Probably not," Harry replied. "Somehow, Snape always lets his House get away with things. I'm just glad you're OK and no one got hurt."

"Well, thanks again," Justin replied. He stepped back to join his House mates, who closed around him in support.

Harry nodded and started back down the hallway, feeling a lot better about the night. He didn't mind being judged by his actions, but the Wizarding world didn't seem to want to do that. Snape wanted to judge him based on his father's actions before he was born and most of the students wanted to judge him on things he couldn't even control, like Voldemort's death or speaking to snakes. It was frustrating.

Fred and George Weasley caught up to the trio as they continued towards their House. "So you're not the Heir of Slytherin then, Harry? That would be pretty funny if you were; a Gryffindor as the Heir of Slytherin. Plus, Snape would be furious." The two redheads laughed at the man's imagined chagrin.

Harry snickered at their enthusiastic faces. "Sorry guys, but didn't Slytherin die like a thousand years ago? The way everyone seems to be related, probably most witches and wizards have a little Slytherin blood in them. With my Mum being muggleborn and me being proud of her, even if I were an heir, I don't think I would be a very good one, especially since I count Hermione as one of my best friends. I would be very upset if anything happened to her or any other muggleborn." The girl in question beamed at Harry.

The Hufflepuffs broke off at the next hallway to go to their House. Potter's comments made a number of them re-think their immediate assumptions when he hissed at the snake.

"What were you thinking, thanking Potter," muttered Ernie to Justin.

"It was the right thing to do," responded his House mate. "It was Malfoy that summoned the snake, and I'll bet it was because Snape told him to do it. Potter didn't _have_ to do anything when Lockhart's spell blasted it into the crowd, but he did. Based on his gestures, he was obviously calling it away from me and then pointed out Malfoy to it. So what if he can speak to snakes? St. Patrick must have had a way to drive them out of Ireland. Maybe he was a parselmouth as well."

"But parseltongue is known to be a dark trait," objected Hannah Abbott.

"Because two dark wizards used it against people?" Justin shook his head. "They also both had two hands. Does that make everyone with two hands automatically dark? Because that's basically what you're saying. And as Potter pointed out, his _Mum_ was muggleborn. Why would he be against them? Granger is one of his best friends and she's muggleborn. I've never seen Potter do anything dark and until I do, I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt."

His staunch support convinced the other Hufflepuffs to at least take a wait-and-see attitude about the Gryffindor's unexpected ability.

In another hallway, the Ravenclaws were also discussing the evening's events. "Can you imagine if Potter can speak to actual dragons? I'll bet every single dragon preserve would be out to hire him."

"With their long life spans, just think of the knowledge they might have accumulated," said Cho Chang. "And Potter would have access to all of it." Many Ravenclaws looked slightly covetous at the idea.

"In India, snake charmers are highly respected," revealed Padma Patil. "There are four species of venomous snakes that are quite dangerous and many people are bitten every year. A parselmouth who could capture snakes without injury would be celebrated and honored there."

"In south Asia as well," added Su Li quietly. "The same vipers are found there. A parselmouth would be highly respected."

"I wonder whether Professor Flitwick has more information on parselmouths," said Cho. The Ravenclaws hurried back to their Common room, eager to speak to their Head of House.

Down in the lower levels, the Slytherins waited until they were safely concealed in their Common room before speaking. "A Gryffindor as a parselmouth," muttered Marcus Flint. "It's an insult to our House."

"A half-blood Gryffindor with a mudblood mother at that," sneered Draco Malfoy.

Flint whirled on the second year blonde. "This is _your_ fault, Malfoy," he growled. "You tried to beat Potter again and you failed, _yet again_. Now everyone knows that the Heir isn't in Slytherin. Your ineffective rows with Potter are responsible for everyone learning about that."

The second year was immediately defensive. "Wait a minute, how dare you blame me for this!"

"We can blame you because you caused the situation," replied Edmund Spiers, a Seventh Year Prefect. "If Potter had been a Slytherin, his parseltongue abilities would be to our advantage. Instead, because you conjured a snake that Potter could control, it appears that Slytherin House superiority is in question."

The glares of the other Slytherins finally began to make an impression on the Second Year boy. He had tried and failed to beat Potter yet again, and with every loss, his respect in the House diminished. Now there was a parselmouth, a Slytherin ability, outside of the House, and Malfoy was responsible for that becoming known. He decided to go to his dorm room and write a letter to his father. The elder Malfoy would know what to do to fix this situation.

In the Gryffindor common room, a number of students wouldn't meet Harry's eyes, but others seemed intrigued by his hallway comments.

"Why didn't you tell us you were a parselmouth," asked Ron, obviously miffed at the revelation.

"I didn't know it was unusual," shrugged Harry. "Like I said, I only learned that magic was real when Hagrid delivered my Hogwarts letter on my eleventh birthday. Before that, my relatives always said that magic didn't exist."

"Wait," said Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Quidditch Keeper. "You didn't know anything about magic until you were eleven? What about all those books describing your adventures over the years?"

"Pfft" responded Harry in disgust. "I never even knew about them until this year. Every single one of those books is a lie. I was raised by my muggle relatives. I never even heard about the Wizarding world until I got my Hogwarts letter. Hagrid took me to get my supplies, and then he wouldn't let me buy all the books I wanted, so I came to school last year pretty much blind and dumb."

He looked around the room. "My relatives told me that my parents were unemployed drunks before Hagrid came." He was a little gratified by the outraged gasps heard around the room. "He was the one that told me how they were really killed, so at least I finally learned the truth. Since I knew nothing, why would I know what's considered dark and what's considered light? It's not like it's discussed in class, is it? Yet you all seem to think I mysteriously know what took you a lifetime to learn. I have no more knowledge than the average muggleborn."

"But You-Know-Who was a parselmouth," objected one of the older Gryffindors.

"Yeah, and he was also a wizard," replied Harry. "Does that mean that every wizard is automatically evil?"

Alicia Spinnet spoke up, "Well, that might explain Fred and George." The Quidditch team laughed at their identical mischievous Beaters.

"Oi!" the twins responded. They looked at each other and then grinned impishly.

"As two seriously evil dark wizards to another seriously evil dark wizard," started George.

"We welcome you to the evil wizards club," finished Fred. The both bowed in unison to Harry.

Harry couldn't help but grin at their antics. He straightened up and tried to put on his poshest airs. "Let us schedule time in one of our next secret evil wizard club meetings to develop our long-term plans for world domination in pranking the masses, my seriously evil dark comrades."

"Oh Merlin help us," groaned Alicia. "There's three of them now." They Gryffindor common room erupted in laughter, a very welcome diversion from the day's events.

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	9. Chapter 9 - Harry and the Dementors

What if Harry had questioned the impact of Dementors at school after being assaulted by one on the train?

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Harry Potter was still a little shaken after being attacked by a dark creature called a Dementor on the train to Hogwarts. The creature was originally clad in a dark hooded cloak, but its hand showed and was hideous with grey and decaying looking skin, like what the teen imagined a decomposing corpse would resemble. It had come into their train compartment, dropping the temperature to freezing and breathing with a loud death-rattle sound. Harry heard screaming in his mind before the creature uncovered its face only to show empty eye sockets and in place of a mouth, was a large gaping hole. It reached for Harry and tried to cover the teen's mouth before help arrived in the form of the shabby teacher that had been riding the train who cast a spell to drive the creature away.

Somehow, his Head of House had learned of the incident and was waiting for Harry when he entered the school. She forced him to see Madame Pomfrey, the school Matron.

"I can't imagine what anyone was thinking allowing those creatures anywhere near children," she muttered as she gave Harry a hot chocolate to drink spiked with a bit of Pepper-Up. "I'm going to have to deal with a school full of depressed and anxiety-stricken children who are unable to sleep or eat properly as long as those creatures are nearby."

"Even if they're off the school grounds, Madame Pomfrey," asked Harry, glad to see his trembling had stopped.

The Matron absently as she studied the results her spell gave her about the young teen. "There are close to one hundred of those creatures around the school. Except for the prison of Azkaban, there has never been such a concentration of them. Even if they are off the school grounds, that many could cause depression, trouble sleeping and eating, a heightened sense of anxiety, as well as difficulty concentrating."

"So just being outside, but still on the grounds, we could be affected," asked Harry hesitantly. "If we're on the Quidditch pitch or walking to the Greenhouses, or sitting by the lake?"

"If you or any of your class mates have troubles, I want them to come to see me immediately," ordered the Matron earnestly. "You may go on to the Feast, Mr. Potter." As she turned from Harry, she muttered, "I better order a good supply of chocolate to keep on hand and make sure Professor Snape brews a large batch of calming and sleeping potions for me."

Harry ignored Draco Malfoy's attempts to humiliate him during the Welcoming Feast, thinking about everything Madame Pomfrey had said. He barely tasted the food that he absent-mindedly placed on his plate. He didn't notice Hermione and Ron sharing looks of concern over his distraction.

Once back in the Gryffindor Common room, Hermione asked hesitantly, "Are you all right, Harry?"

"Yeah mate," added Ron. "You've been really deep in thought since you returned from Madame Pomfrey."

He looked at his two best friends. "Madame Pomfrey is really worried about the dementors," he began as they found a seat. "She's concerned because it's the greatest number of dementors outside of Azkaban." Nearby students began paying attention to their conversation. "Even though they're outside of the castle, she's worried that students are going to have trouble eating and sleeping."

Hermione was appalled. "But…if we aren't eating or sleeping properly, that will impact our concentration in class! It's shocking that they would jeopardize our education like that," she exclaimed. "Our parents pay a small fortune to send us here, and then our education is put in jeopardy by creatures that can make us feel afraid day after day after day."

"Do you think it would affect Quidditch training and matches," asked a dismayed Ron, showing his priorities.

"Would what affect Quidditch," questioned Keeper Oliver Wood, paying heed to the discussion once his obsession was mentioned. The rest of the Quidditch team looked up at his loud question.

"The dementors," replied Ron. "Madame Pomfrey was telling Harry how they can affect eating and sleeping and concentration. If there was only a single one on the train, then how bad will dozens of them be over time?" Those around them shuddered at the memory of the freezing cold and overwhelming misery when the dementor boarded the train.

"There's never been dementors consistently around young people before," muttered Sixth Year prefect and aspiring healer Victoria Farley to her boyfriend and fellow prefect, Andrew Donovan. "What if there's a permanent impact on our youngest due to prolonged exposure?" She nodded towards the eleven and twelve year olds in the room.

"My Da will not be happy about this," replied Andrew. "Katherine is only twelve and how am I supposed to keep her safe when she's in another House?"

"Hufflepuffs take care of their own," whispered Victoria comfortingly. They both turned back to the conversation that had now involved nearly the entire Common room.

"I don't know what we can do about it," grumbled Harry. "We're just kids. No one listens to us." He was very familiar with that experience.

"What if we all write to our parents and ask them to complain to the Ministry and to write the Daily Prophet," asked Hermione hesitantly.

"The Ministry probably wouldn't listen to non-magical parents," said Neville timidly. At Hermione's indignant expression, he quickly held up his hands. "Not that I agree with it, but they would be more likely to listen to parents of purebloods."

"He's probably right," admitted Oliver. "We need to make sure that every pureblood parent knows about what we're facing and ask them to do something about it. I refuse to lose the Quidditch Cup because the team can't eat or sleep properly!"

Fred and George Weasley grinned mischievously. "A Molly Weasley Howler will do Fudge some good," they announced somewhat gleefully. "Glad you brought this up, Harrikins!"

The following morning saw students from Gryffindor speaking with their friends in Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. By lunchtime, Ravenclaw students were speaking to their allies in Slytherin. Both personal and school owls were winging across the country before the end of the day.

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"Arthur, did you know that there are _one hundred_ dementors stationed just outside the school grounds," exclaimed a horrified Molly Weasley. "Poppy Pomfrey is worried about the physical and emotional health of the children." She stared at her surprised husband as the implications sunk in. "My babies! My babies are in danger!" For once, Arthur didn't cringe when his wife pulled out paper for a Howler.

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"Amos, are you aware that Cedric could suffer from trouble eating and sleeping with all of those dementors around Hogwarts," asked an upset Lavinia Diggory, looking up from her son's letter. "He's concerned it will affect his grades as well as his Quidditch games." Amos Diggory's pride in his son's grades and Quidditch skills had nothing on the wrath he had for anyone who threatened the health and safety of his beloved son. His quick departure to the Ministry without finishing his breakfast did not bode well for the Minister.

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Gilbert Parkinson looked up from his breakfast when his wife gasped audibly. "What is it, my dear," he asked, imagining that her dressmaker had announced a delay or some other trifling matter that seemed to incense his wife so often.

"It's from Pansy," his wife said. "I knew that the Ministry said they were posting dementors around Hogwarts to protect the students from Sirius Black, but Gilbert, there are _one hundred_ of them all around the school grounds. The children are terrified to go from the school to the greenhouses, much less near the forest for their Care of Magical Creatures classes. Plus, this lists all of the symptoms of prolonged exposure, even if they are more removed from the effects than prisoners in Azkaban." She stared at her husband. "I never realized Pansy could be adversely affected. The Ministry never said anything like that."

"Hmm, Fudge never even mentioned the possibility," replied her husband. "I think I should contact a few other families with children or grandchildren at Hogwarts."

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"Darling," said Isobell MacDougal, looking up from Morag's letter with a concerned frown.

"Yes, dear," Angus MacDougal replied, setting aside his own morning paper.

"Morag sent us a letter. The Hogwarts Express was stopped on the way to the school and a dementor came on board." Her voice began shaking slightly as she realized how much danger her only daughter had been in.

"What?" roared her husband. "One of those filthy creatures dared to get that close to our Morag? Is she all right?"

"She said the aura was terrifying, but even worse, the creature actually entered one of the compartments and may have attempted to kiss one of the children. She's afraid to sleep at night in case they find a way into the school." She looked up at her husband with alarm. "Darling, there are _one hundred_ of them all around Hogwarts. What's to stop a swarm of them from entering the school, or stopping a carriage on a Hogsmeade weekend?"

"This is an outrage," exclaimed her husband. "How _dare_ they put our children at risk? I won't stand for it! We can't stand by and do nothing while the idiots at the Ministry harm our children!"

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Amelia Bones arrived at the Ministry seething in rage. Her niece and only surviving relative, Susan, had written to say that the Hogwarts train had been stopped and that a dementor had forced its way on board during their trip to school. She had woken up repeatedly with nightmares because of the despair the creature caused.

A dementor! Among defenseless children! Her only niece and heir to the Bones family had been in danger of having her soul sucked out! She wouldn't stand for it. Heads were going to roll once she found out who was responsible for this debacle.

She stepped out of the Floo and the people who were about to greet her stopped at her thunderous expression and promptly found a reason to get as far away as possible as quickly as possible. The normally composed Amelia Bones was one very scary woman when she was livid and no one wanted to even accidentally draw her attention when she was this irate.

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Lucius Malfoy heaved a mental sigh as he presented himself to Cornelius Fudge's assistant, requesting an audience with the Minister in a tone that demanded immediate compliance. Narcissa had barely let him finish his breakfast after reading Draco's letter and insisting that he "fix the dementor issue _now_ ". A Death Eater had nothing on his wife when her only son was threatened. Within minutes, he was being ushered into the portly little man's office.

"My dear Lucius, what brings you here today," asked the rumpled gray-haired Minister jovially. "Not that I'm not always happy to see you," he added quickly. "Please have a seat. Tea?"

Lucius gracefully seated himself and waved the offer of tea away. He smiled coldly. "A rumor was brought to my attention that I wanted to nip in the bud, Minister" he stated with icy politeness. "Therefore, I came to you immediately. After all, I wouldn't want to believe or have other pureblood families believe that the Ministry was putting our heirs at even a miniscule risk."

Fudge's eyes opened wide and his mouth dropped open uncouthly, causing Lucius to hide a sneer. "What? No! Of course not. What is this rumor," the rotund man asked quickly, hoping he could ease the mind of one of his more open-handed supporters. Losing the Malfoy political support would be a huge blow, but losing his financial support would be disastrous to Fudge's personal finances!

"We saw the announcement in the Daily Prophet that dementors would patrol outside of the Hogwarts grounds to protect the students from Sirius Black," said Lucius smoothly. "However, my wife received a letter from my son this morning that said it wasn't just one or two dementors patrolling, but that nearly one hundred of the dreadful creatures are encircling the school. Even at a distance, that many of the foul beasts can play havoc with the innocent minds of children, impacting their sleep and ability to concentrate on their studies." He paused and looked at the now visibly sweating Minister. "Of course, I came here for your assurances that the number is grossly exaggerated."

"Er…I'm not certain of the exact numbers, but I will certainly investigate," he hedged. He ignored the memory of the conversation with the Azkaban Warden who had argued strongly against taking so many of the guards from the prison.

"Excellent, then I will leave you to your investigation, confident that you will do whatever it takes to _immediately_ make sure our heirs are kept safe and healthy" declared Lucius Malfoy, standing gracefully. He looked out the window and then quirked a brief smile. "It appears that I am not the only one who heard that rumor," he said.

Fudge turned towards the window and saw more than a dozen owls bearing smoking red Howlers. Fortunately, his window was warded against deliveries, and the owls were re-directed to his assistant's office.

As Lucius left the inner office, the first Howler exploded, with Molly Weasley's strident screech demanding that her children's safety be assured. For once, a Malfoy only smiled at a Weasley's impassioned ultimatum as he calmly left the Minister's suite, nodding to politely to Amos Diggory and slightly more distantly to Amelia Bones as the two stalked towards the offices he had just exited.

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The following evening, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore announced before dinner that the dementors had been recalled to Azkaban. In order to protect the students from the escaped prisoner, a team of hit wizards had been deployed to Hogsmeade and would be patrolling the area.

"Well done, Harry," whispered Hermione.

"Don't be silly, Hermione. I doubt I had anything to do with it," muttered the dark-haired teen in reply.

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	10. Chapter 10 - A Protective Friend

**Chapter 10 – Harry's Childhood Friend**

What if Harry Potter gained a friend and protector as a young child; a protector who takes any threats to the youthful wizard very seriously?

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Little Harry Potter barely remembers the time before living with Aunt Petunee and Unca Vern'n. At only four years old, his Aunt told him to pull a chair up to the stove and watch her prepare eggs, bacon and toast, and then told him he was responsible for it from that day forward. Harshly spanked with a wooden spoon for burning the breakfast, he was denied food until he could make the meal without ruining anything. However, he was still required to scrub the bathrooms and fetch and carry for his Aunt all day. After almost a week without food, the child had no energy left and was drifting in and out of consciousness. Coldness settled about him and a suffocating sense of power floated around him.

" _Mine!_ " he heard before the blackness claimed him.

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Vernon Dursley had a very bad day at work. He had been overlooked for a promotion and a _woman_ had been promoted to the job that should have been his. He was angry when he arrived home, although he accepted the kiss on the cheek from his wife, Petunia and said hello to his four year old son Dudley, who was watching TV. Unfortunately, he also had to face his wife's nephew, Harry Potter, a freak of a child that had been dumped on their doorstep, upsetting their lovely family. The brat had the audacity to drop a bowl of potatoes on the floor, breaking the bowl and wasting the potatoes. He ignored the fact that the filled dish was much too heavy for a four year old child to carry.

He reached out to strike the child, but found himself flung against a wall with what felt like ice-cold fingers around his throat as the shadows in the room began twisting and the temperature descended into a glacial chill. The shadows coalesced into a tall skeletal figure in a hooded black robe who was slowly choking the life out of Vernon Dursley. Petunia Dursley screamed and backed away from the looming figure, then grabbed her son, when he came into the room and kept him behind her.

As black spots danced before Vernon's eyes, his detested nephew tugged on the robe of the menacing figure strangling him. "You can let him go," the boy said in a calm voice. "I don't think he'll try to hit me again."

The figure looked down at the child and then back to Vernon. Slowly the bony fingers released their hold on Vernon's throat and he gulped air as quickly as he could. He looked up at the ominous presence in horror; if it held a scythe, it would be the traditional manifestation of Death, his mind told him.

The figure wrapped both arms around the little freak and stroked his chest in an affectionate manner before it pointed a bony finger threateningly at him.

"No, I won't touch him," gasped Vernon, trembling before the frightening character.

The figure nodded its acceptance of the pledge and embraced the freak again before it dissolved into the shadows.

After that day, the Dursleys learned to not only leave Harry alone, but to feed and clothe him well. The first time Petunia tried to give him only a slice of stale bread and a piece of dry cheese for lunch, the shadows began to darken in the room and the temperature dropped. She immediately made him a regular sandwich, an apple and a glass of milk for his lunch, for which he thanked her politely. Once the plate was in his hands, the shadows dispersed and the temperature warmed.

When she tried to give the boy the ragged castoffs of her much heavier son, the room temperature again began to drop and she promptly took the boys to a second-hand store, where she bought the little freak his own clothing. Fortunately, as long as they were in his size, she was _permitted_ to buy gently used clothing.

After realizing that the little freak was under the protection of a very powerful presence, instead of trying to stamp the abnormalities out of the child, they told him about magic and said he would receive a letter to go to a magic school when he was eleven. While Harry was excited for the invitation, his relatives were both impatient and anxious to get the boy and his frightening _companion_ out of their house. In July of his eleventh year, an owl tapped at the kitchen window while the family was eating breakfast.

"Go open the window and let the bird in before the neighbors notice, Harry," his aunt said, almost thankful to see such an abnormal phenomenon. Once the window was opened, the bird hopped to the back of Harry's chair and extended its leg, around which were tied two pieces of parchment.

"It's the invitation to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Harry said as he scanned the first page. "The second page is a list of the books and equipment I need to have."

"Write 'I accept' on the first page and give it back to the bird," Petunia ordered. Harry complied, rolled the first page up and tied it back on the owl's leg with the same ribbon. The owl hooted and immediately took off through the open window.

"Where do I find these supplies," Harry asked calmly, looking up from the handwritten page.

"I remember where my sister had to go," his aunt responded. "We'll go on Saturday and make a day of it. You can go purchase your supplies, and the rest of us will visit a museum." When Dudley whined about a museum being boring, she added, "Or perhaps the Tower of London, Dudders. You would like that."

That Saturday, the Dursleys gave him fifty pounds and dropped him off at Charing Cross Road close to where Petunia remembered the "freak" pub being located. "We will be back by three o'clock," she said. "Be sure to be done by then. Take the money to _their_ bank to be changed. I remember that they don't use _real_ money." The family then drove away leaving the boy behind on the sidewalk.

"I guess we go through that pub," Harry said, pointing at the odd building that everyone seemed to ignore. He walked placidly to the pub and moved into the dark interior, allowing a moment for his eyes to adjust. He felt a cold hand on his back apply slight pressure, so he allowed it to guide him to the back of the pub and out another door into a small courtyard. He looked at his companion questioningly as there was no other exit from the area.

His escort tapped a bony finger on a brick wall, and Harry was surprised when it opened to display a dated cobblestone street lined with old-fashioned shops. Harry followed his companion down the street to a large white stone building. The witches and wizards strolling down the street didn't seem to see the frightening figure, but shuddered as he passed by. As they approached the white building, his companion allowed Harry to take the lead. Two uniformed short figures with pointed ears and long fingers stood guard outside the entrance doors. As Harry approached, he nodded his head politely. They looked at him impassively and then their eyes moved over his shoulder. Their eyes widened and they both appeared to forget how to breathe for a moment. Harry gave a mental shrug, and proceeded into the bank.

As he waited for an open teller, the various goblins assisting customers gradually ceased their actions and gaped at Harry's companion. The witches and wizards in the bank looked around to see what drew their attention, but saw only a young boy and not the ominous manifestation behind him.

Harry moved to an open teller, who seemed to want to back away the closer the young wizard came. Only years of training kept him in place, although his claws dug gouges into the counter in front of him.

"Good morning," Harry said courteously. "I have pound notes that need to be exchanged." He started to reach into his pocket to remove the notes, when a skeletal hand reached over his shoulder and snapped its fingers. A small gold key dropped down on the desk.

Harry looked at the key and then up at his companion. He shrugged and then added, "Apparently I have a key for you as well."

The teller picked up the key and noticed that it was so cold that it hurt his fingers. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Name?"

"Harry Potter," the boy answered quietly.

The goblin's eyes widened, but at a movement from the shadowy figure behind the boy, he stopped before saying anything. "This vault key is confirmed. Do you wish to convert money, or simply withdraw from your account?"

Harry blinked in surprise and looked over his shoulder. "I have an account?" The shadowy figure nodded once and the goblin tried not to shudder. Harry turned back and said, "Right, I will withdraw money from the account if there's enough. How much is in there?"

"Your total is currently at 427,689 galleons," the goblin said after pressing the key onto a piece of parchment.

Harry blinked in surprise. "Okay, what is a galleon?"

The goblin started to frown in annoyance at the question, but the shadowy figure glided a half step forward and he quickly reconsidered and responded, "There are three coins; bronze knuts, silver sickles, and gold galleons. Twenty-nine knuts to a sickle, seventeen sickles to a galleon. The current conversion rate is five British pounds for one galleon."

Harry calculated quickly and realized that he had over two million pounds in this bank. "Um, yes, I would like to take some out, please."

"Griphook," the teller called, as he returned the young wizard's key. The named goblin stared over Harry's shoulder and came forward reluctantly. "Take Mister Potter…and his companion…to Vault 687." When the trio moved out, the teller shuddered, and then closed his station to report to the Day Manager. This was far above his position. Later in the day, after confirmation from the other goblins on the floor who saw the hooded figure as well as the Griphook who took the boy to his vault, the Potter account was marked for preferential service as a precaution for the safety and security of the Goblin Nation.

Following two exciting cart rides, Harry left Gringotts with a bag of gold coins, and a handful of the silver and bronze coins. It wasn't as convenient as folding money in his wallet, but he would get used to it, he supposed.

Over the course of several hours, Harry with his companion bought the required supplies, as well as a number of additional books that looked interesting to him. The elderly man in the wand shop seemed to be the only wizard that noticed his peculiar escort, and the man was obviously extremely distracted by the figure, practically pushing Harry out of the door as soon as an acceptable wand was found.

Harry purchased everything on the list by three o'clock, except the optional pet. He already knew from experience that animals were terrified of his friend, so he didn't even look for one.

OoOoOoOo

The Dursleys were quite happy to drop Harry off at the train station on September 1st. His invisible companion led the way through the station and indicated the disillusioned entryway as he carried Harry's trunk for the boy. Once on the platform, no one seemed to notice that the caged cats and owls of the other students tended to whimper and tremble as Harry walked by. The messy-haired boy climbed on to the train, and walked along until he found an empty compartment. His companion positioned his trunk on the seat opposite the boy. For some reason, no other students entered the compartment. Although some thought of it, they experienced a sense of nearly overwhelming dread if they reached for the door handle, and they quickly changed their mind. Harry enjoyed the quiet ride and read one of his extra books for the duration of the journey.

Inside the castle, Harry waited his turn to try on the Hat. "What do we have here," murmured a voice in his mind. "Oh my! I didn't expect this! Well, if it weren't for your guardian, Slytherin might help you find greatness, but I would fear for the lives of others in the House if you went there. While you're intelligent, you don't live for learning, so Ravenclaw isn't quite right. You are certainly willing to work hard, but your loyalty is quite difficult to earn, so Hufflepuff is out. You are brave enough, but I worry that rash Gryffindors may aggravate your guardian. However, it's the best choice for you, so it better be Gryffindor!"

Harry ignored the students that stared at him as he ate his dinner. One ill-mannered red-headed boy actually asked to see the faded scar on his forehead. Harry frowned at the other boy who felt a chill run down his spine, and quickly decided that his dinner was more important than seeing a famous scar. The dark-haired boy hoped that learning magic made all the staring and prying questions worthwhile.

After dinner was done and the students were sent to their dorms, Albus Dumbledore sat quietly in his office. Harry Potter didn't appear to have suffered with his muggle relatives; the boy had been calm and held himself with confidence during the sorting and the meal. "Albus," the Hat said to the Headmaster's surprise. "You should leave Harry Potter alone. Don't try to involve him in any schemes. The boy is protected."

"What do you mean," the elderly wizard asked. The Sorting Hat rarely offered any comments on the students.

"Just that. You know I can't say more about what I learned in the Sorting. Just leave that boy alone."

The Headmaster was perplexed, but decided that he would find out what the Hat meant as he observed the boy over the course of the school year.

Once Harry pulled the curtains around his bed, Death materialized and silently held out his hands. In one hand, was a fifteen inch long wand made of elder wood. In the other hand, was a folded silvery cloak. "What are these," Harry asked curiously as he accepted the gifts. His companion simply faded back into the shadows. Harry shrugged and tucked the two items under his pillow for the night, then locked them away in his trunk in the morning, promptly forgetting about them.

The following morning, Albus Dumbledore discovered that the elder wand he had confiscated from Gellert Grindlewald nearly half a century earlier was missing. He searched the castle, casting a summoning charm using his original wand with no results. Troubled by the sudden disappearance, he asked the house elves and the ghosts to look for it and notify him immediately if they saw it. What he didn't know was that the house elves were well aware who took it, and were quite content to ignore the fact that it was now in Harry Potter's trunk.

On Harry's second day in the school, Ron Weasley's pet rat found himself trembling with terror at the aura in the Gryffindor dorm room and promptly abandoned the redheaded boy and looked for safer accommodations. The dark-haired boy made the appropriate expressions of sympathy for the other boy's loss.

Harry found the classes interesting with two exceptions. The first was the History of Magic. To his surprise, it was taught by a ghost. The befuddled spirit rarely paid attention to the students, even while lecturing. That changed the day Harry Potter entered. The others noticed that Binns actually recoiled from the boy when he entered the room, and that he seemed to remember the First Year's name, unlike any others. While he still lectured in a monotonous tone, the ghost constantly looked up from his book when speaking, as if to be certain the Gryffindor boy hadn't moved. When Harry entered or left the class after the first day, Binns made sure to be at the furthest point away from the boy and only returned to the lectern after the bell rang.

The other class that was disappointing was Potions. Professor Snape was a tall pale man with shoulder length black hair, greasy from potions fumes. The First Year Gryffindors had already been warned by older students that the man despised their House and took points whenever possible. After sneeringly calling Harry, "our new celebrity", and asking him questions he didn't know, the man scoffed "clearly fame isn't everything." Harry didn't understand the man's hostility and thought he was just as unfair as Uncle Vernon used to be.

When Neville Longbottom missed a step in the brewing instructions and wound up with painful boils, the Potions professor actually deducted points from Harry, who wasn't even working with the boy. As the other students left the classroom, he felt cold fingers on his shoulder and obediently stayed in place.

"What are you still doing here, Potter? Get out!" the professor demanded irritably. To his surprise, the class room door shut on its own followed by the temperature in the room dropping so dramatically that the man could see his breath. At the same time, the shadows in the room twisted and shifted to a point directly behind the boy. An unexpected wave of weakness ran through the Potions Master, and he stumbled for a moment.

"Professor, what you just felt was you losing a week of life," the dark-haired boy stated calmly. "If you continue to treat me unfairly, the next time you will lose a month." The boy looked over his shoulder at the shadows behind him and nodded as if in acknowledgement. "If it happens a third time, you will lose a year of your life."

"Are you threatening me, boy" whispered the former Death Eater with malevolence dripping from his words.

"Me? No sir," the boy said in surprise. "I have no ability to remove life. I'm only eleven years old. However, my _guardian_ does. If you continue to act unfairly beyond those three warnings, he will reap your soul to remove you permanently." The shadows in the room coalesced into a seven foot tall hooded figure, holding a nine-foot long scythe with a blade so dark it hurt to look at it. An aura of soul-wrenching terror filled the room.

"He doesn't like people treating me unfairly and is very protective," continued Harry. "If I earn a punishment, that's fine, and I'll pay the consequences without complaining. But he doesn't tolerate anyone bullying me." He stood and picked up his book bag. "I just wanted to give you a fair warning." He opened the door and walked out, but the specter glided to within a few feet of the Potions Master. Snape's limbs trembled as he felt his doom approach and he gripped his desk to keep from falling. After a few long moments while the professor felt he was being judged, the figure and the feeling of terror disappeared, and the temperature rose. The man's legs gave out and he sat heavily on his desk, breathing laboriously. He looked at his trembling hands and gripped them together tightly. Perhaps it was time to reconsider his teaching methods.

The teachers gathered at the end of the week for the first staff meeting of the term. Albus beamed at the teachers as they settled. "So how was our first week? What about our new First Years?"

"One of mine appears to have an eidetic memory," replied Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor. "Unfortunately, she is socially inept, so is struggling to find her place. If she can make friends, she will likely give Filius' students some competition for points."

The Ravenclaw Head of House smiled brightly. "You must be speaking of Miss Granger. Intelligent, but tends to overwhelm the other students. My first years are doing well, no real homesickness this year. They all seem to have a love of learning."

"My First Year badgers are also doing well. We had a little homesickness, but the prefects and the other students made sure to make the young ones feel at home," said Professor Sprout with a smile.

"Young Draco Malfoy shows a predisposition towards brewing," Snape acknowledged. "The rest of them are dunderheads."

"What about Mr. Potter," asked Albus genially. He failed to notice Cuthbert Binns shudder and fade away from the staff meeting. The ghost rarely spoke anyways.

"He appears polite and on a par with the other First Years," responded Minerva.

"Definitely courteous," agreed Filius. "I saw Mr. Malfoy insult the boy, but he just shrugged it off." Snape seemed to stiffen in his seat and made a mental note to talk to Draco Malfoy. The Ravenclaw Head of House didn't mention the foreboding aura that seemed to follow the boy everywhere; his goblin blood was diluted and he couldn't see that which was hidden as easily as his brethren, although he felt something he couldn't define.

"He's on time to class, his first assignment was done on time and he's polite," concurred Pomona. "But he seems…indifferent. Don't get me wrong, he did what I asked of the class, but he doesn't really smile. He doesn't seem happy."

"It could be because most of the school stares at him or whispers as he walks by," suggested Filius. "But I noticed that he ignores that just as he ignores taunts and insults."

"What about you, Severus," asked the Headmaster.

"I have no comments on Mister Potter," the man sneered. He then crossed his arms and refused to look at anyone around the table.

The topic moved on to the other years, but Albus felt a twinge of concern. An indifferent or apathetic Boy-Who-Lived wasn't what the Wizarding world needed.

The oddest thing that happened in the year was that their stuttering DADA professor, one Quirinus Quirrell, died the second week of the school term. Rumor had it that he had been possessed and died when the possessing spirit abruptly departed, but who could believe that. A retired Auror was brought in to replace him a week after Quirrell's death.

As the Yule holiday approached, Dumbledore searched for James Potter's invisibility cloak that he had borrowed eleven years ago, planning to return it to Harry in the guise of a gift. To his surprise, he couldn't find it. He searched his quarters thoroughly and had no idea what could have happened to it. He was certain that he would find it at a later date when he had more time to search, so put it out of his mind.

At the end of the year, Dumbledore found Flamel's stone was not in the mirror where he had placed it for safekeeping, but none of the traps had been disturbed. If he had been able to ask, he would have learned that Harry's guardian considered the stone a "cheat" and confiscated it. Dumbledore wondered how he would explain it to Nicholas and Perenelle.

Ron Weasley's rat reappeared after Harry had left the dorm room with his trunk for the journey home.

OoOoOoOo

A house elf appeared in the Harry Potter's bedroom during the summer, as the Dursleys were downstairs entertaining a business guest of Uncle Vernon. The battered little elf greeted Harry excitedly, but then stared in abject horror at the shadowy form behind the boy.

"Dobby is sorry for intruding," he gasped. "Dobby didn't know the great Harry Potter had such a strong and scary protector!"

Harry smiled at the little elf. "What brings you here," he asked.

"Dobby thought Harry Potter, sir, would be in danger at Hogwarts. There is a plot, sir. A terrible plot. But Dobby didn't know about…" he nervously indicated the figure behind the twelve year old. "Will Harry Potter be in any danger, even if something bad happens at Hogswarty?"

The shadowy figure snorted in amusement, and the house elf nodded in acknowledgement and suddenly seemed to smile almost maliciously before bowing and departing.

The author Gilderoy Lockhart tried to grab Harry in the bookstore, but something bitterly cold prevented him from touching the boy accompanied by a sensation of overwhelming terror. He apologized to Harry and moved back to his stack of books and then did his utmost to ignore the boy who inspired such soul-wrenching horror. He wondered if he should re-think the teaching assignment, but decided he would just stay away from the Potter boy.

On the first day of school, Scabbers again seemed to be terrified of Harry, and disappeared the first night.

Harry chose not to attend the dueling club. It wasn't mandatory, and he found Lockhart too incompetent to spend more time in his presence than necessary.

Two month's into the school year, Filch's cat was found hanging by its tail, petrified. Harry and his protector disappeared for several hours. His vault at Gringotts increased significantly several months later, and he sported impressive new snakeskin boots for the new school year. A purged book lay mouldering in a chamber far underground while the youngest Weasley suddenly seemed to settle in to school and showed appreciable improvement in her assignments. Mrs. Norris was revived with a potion made by Professor Snape once the mandrakes matured enough for harvesting.

Scabbers reappeared as Ron was getting ready to board the train home at the end of the year.

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A notorious prisoner escaped from the wizard's prison in the summer before Harry's Third Year. He saw the Weasleys in Diagon Alley, and Ron's father seemed to be certain that the fugitive was after Harry and warned him not to seek the dangerous criminal out. Harry thanked the Weasley patriarch and assured him he wasn't going to actively seek out a deranged criminal.

The Hogwarts train was stopped by dementors; tall humanoids with gray skin, like a decaying corpse. Harry first heard a rattling breath as the temperature dropped, and then the door to his compartment was opened by a tall robed shape supposedly there to search for the escaped prisoner. The dementor froze in the doorway and then turned to flee, but Harry's companion swung his scythe through it and released a number of souls to the afterlife, leaving only a few tattered scraps of fabric behind.

At the welcoming feast, the students learned that dementors were stationed around the school to protect them from the escaped fugitive. Scabbers again disappeared the first night. Harry was irritated when his Head of House refused to accept the permission slip Aunt Petunia had signed, and told him it was too dangerous for him to visit Hogsmeade with the other Third Years. Harry wondered how safe it could be for the other students if it wasn't safe for him. He didn't appreciate double standards.

The new DADA teacher, Remus Lupin, reported in the weekly staff meeting that the boggart recoiled from Potter, returned to the cupboard and refused to come out again. He had no explanation for the phenomenon, although privately he was aware that Moony shuddered when too close to Harry.

Harry met a very large and skinny black dog near the end of the year on the school grounds. Although the dog transformed into an emaciated man who was the escapee, Harry's guardian didn't find him a threat, so Harry was willing to listen to the man.

"I'm your godfather, Harry," the man rasped. "I was supposed to take care of you if anything happened to your parents. But Hagrid got there first and wouldn't give you to me, so I thought if you were safe at Hogwarts, I could go after the traitor, Peter Pettigrew. He cast an explosive spell that blew up a muggle gas line and killed a dozen muggles, then escaped, leaving me to take the blame."

After further discussion, Harry was shocked to learn that the Ministry threw the man in prison without a trial. As they talked, scores of dementors left their assigned positions and swarmed the two, causing the dog-man to collapse and moan. Before they could get too close to either boy or man, Harry's companion manifested and destroyed them all as they tried to flee, freeing their captured souls to the afterlife.

"What the…how…who…" Sirius stammered as he recovered, trying to stand between the imposing specter and his godson.

"This is Death," Harry introduced the two, as he moved next to the older man. "He's been looking after me since I was four years old. My relatives almost killed me, and he didn't approve. He says I'm his Master…or will be…it's hard to tell because time, space and distance all seem a bit _flexible_ to Death."

"Your relatives almost killed you? Those dirty miserable…" he stopped abruptly, remembering his godson and bit his tongue. "Th…thank you for watching him when I couldn't," Sirius stammered with a bow towards the seven foot tall looming figure. Looking down at Harry, he added, "If I can catch Pettigrew and prove my innocence, you're welcome to come live with me, if you want."

"Really? I would love to! I don't take up much space." He paused and added, "You wouldn't mind if Death comes too, right?"

"As long as I'm not next on his list, that's fine with me," Sirius eventually replied, bravely hiding a shudder that ran down his spine. "But until I can prove my innocence, I better get out of here," he announced as he noticed the staff exiting the school and heading towards them. He changed back into a dog, and bounded away.

The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, attempted to blame Dumbledore for the loss of the dementors. Dumbledore in turn reminded him that the dementors were under Ministry control, and that he was assured they would never enter the school grounds. "Are you now saying that the Ministry didn't have control over the dementors, Cornelius? Is that the message you're going to give to all those parents?"

The man left in a huff. Dumbledore subsequently introduced a bill to the Wizengamot that money be appropriated for paid guards for Azkaban, since there were so few dementors left at the prison.

For the first time, Scabbers didn't return to Ron as he boarded the train home at the end of the year.

OoOoOoOo

Two months into his Fourth Year, Harry sat at the Gryffindor table as the names were drawn for the Tri-Wizard Tournament. He calmly applauded with the rest of the school for Cedric Diggory as the Hogwarts champion. To everyone's surprise, after Cedric left the Great Hall to join the other champions, the Goblet spit out another name.

Albus Dumbledore caught the parchment and looked at it, then out at the watching students. "Harry Potter," he announced somberly.

Harry stood up as the students began muttering. "How could my name come out of the Goblet when I didn't enter it and I didn't ask anyone else to enter it for me?"

"It doesn't matter, Mister Potter," replied the Headmaster. "The Goblet has chosen you as a champion. Therefore, you are under a magical contract to participate or lose your magic. Please join the other champions," he added and pointed towards the door at the end of the Great Hall.

"I am _not_ a Champion," Harry asserted. "Cedric Diggory is the Hogwarts Champion. I ask all Hogwarts students to support him." The anger showing on the Hufflepuff students drained away and they again looked proud at that statement. "The only thing I am is a very unwilling participant who you're forcing into this charade! So much for the protection around the Goblet." He stalked into the indicated room, apologized to the true champions and then folded his arms and glared at the officials as they came through the door. The temperature in the room dropped noticeably.

At the weighing of the wands ceremony two weeks later, reporter Rita Skeeter suffered what appeared to be a fatal heart failure when she attempted to drag Harry Potter off for a "private" interview. It was assumed she was too excited about the event, which led to her unfortunate demise. The wand ceremony was held two hours later after the removal of the body and was a very subdued event.

As Harry approached the nesting Hungarian Horntail, she began backing up nervously. The Gryffindor bowed once, took the golden egg from the nest and then turned and left the arena. The Horntail slunk back to her nest and curled around her true eggs trembling. When others demanded to know how he made the dragon back down, he replied dismissively, "It's irrelevant. I'm not a champion, only an indentured victim."

When his Head of House told he had to attend the Yule Ball with a date, Harry politely refused. "I am _not_ a champion," he repeated, "and don't understand why the ' _responsible adults_ ' here at Hogwarts refuse to acknowledge that. You may be able to force me to risk my life because of that thrice-cursed Goblet, but attending a Ball was not part of the magical contract." When McGonagall or Dumbledore tried to persuade him otherwise, he stopped attending class or eating in the Great Hall. A house elf showed the teen where the Come-and-Go room was, and he moved into it. The elf was happy to bring him meals there as well. As Tournament participants were not required to actually attend classes (in order to prepare for each event), there was little that Dumbledore or McGonagall could do.

The day of the second task, something so terrorized the merpeople that they met the champions one hundred yards off shore and pushed the hostages to them. Everyone returned within ten minutes with no injuries and received full points. Harry had no discernable close friends and didn't attend the Ball, so Dumbledore randomly assigned one of his dorm mates to be Harry's hostage. When Malfoy gleefully pointed out that what he would miss most was another boy, Harry just shrugged and said he waited until the real champions selected a hostage and then "rescued" the remaining one.

The last task was a maze with ten foot moving hedges. Death led Harry through the maze and the teen wasn't surprised when the creatures all fled at his approach, even the sentient sphinx. Harry wanted to let one of the real champions take the Cup, but Death insisted he touch it. He was surprised to feel as if someone had attached a hook behind his navel and tugged. After feeling like he had been turned inside out, Harry stumbled and realized he was now in a dark graveyard where a huge cauldron was set up. A red light flew towards him, but Death stepped in front of the teen and the light hit him and dissipated.

Harry cast a _Stupefy_ at the pudgy man who tried to stun him and watched him fall down to the ground. Death stalked up to a small bundle laying on the ground by the stunned man, which desperately tried to crawl away from the approaching and horrifying specter. "Noooo," Harry heard as Death swung his scythe.

Across the country, there were multiple disturbances. In a bank vault, a cup seemed to scream before a black wisp was pulled from the cup. In a dilapidated mansion, a locket opened and began wailing, before a black wisp was pulled away. A half-mad house elf rejoiced. In a ramshackle hovel, a shriek faded away and a skeletal hand retrieved a ring with a large black stone. In a hidden room at Hogwarts, a horrifying screech came from a woman's diadem, and was then silent.

In the meantime, Harry Potter returned to the Tournament with the Cup, a bundle of cloth containing the remains of an ugly creature and a stunned man. "Just because you forced a fourth student to participate in this farce, did you have to make a fourth task to surprise us," he asked after casting a subtle _Sonorous_ on himself. "Well, we always had to retrieve something, so here's the construct and the man that tried to stun me." The sleeve on the stunned man was abruptly tore off, showing a clearly visible dark mark on the forearm.

Although Amelia Bones had to threaten Cornelius Fudge into acknowledging that the stunned man was Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black was finally tried, found not guilty, and awarded a settlement for his illegal captivity.

OoOoOoOo

Dumbledore sighed heavily and looked sorrowfully at the freed Sirius Black and his godson, Harry Potter. "I am very sorry to have to tell you this, but Voldemort is not truly dead. He followed an exceptionally heinous series of rituals and split his soul, saving it in different objects. As long as those objects exists, his wraith can always be summoned and restored into a new body."

Harry and Sirius looked at one another, then Harry looked just over his shoulder. "A journal in my second year, a cup, a locket, a diadem, and a ring, plus the soul in the construct. There had been a small portion of his soul that leached off my magic, but that was removed when I was four years old. He was going to use my death in the graveyard to create another, but didn't survive the attempt. There are no pieces of him left, Headmaster."

Dumbledore stared at the teenager as he identified all of the alleged items. How could he know that unless he shared Voldemort's consciousness? "Can you tell me how you know these things, my boy?"

"When I was four years old, the Dursleys nearly killed me through starvation and overwork. Death came for me. However, time is rather… _fluid_ …for Death. He recognized that I was what he called "the Master of Death". He claimed me and became my companion and protector. He removed the leach when I was four, he terminated the journal in my Second Year, he destroyed the dementors in Third Year, and when Riddle died this year, he also reaped all of Riddle's soul pieces."

Dumbledore stared at the teenager and would have thought that Sirius had prompted the dark-haired teen to pull a prank if not for the man looking far too grim. The poor boy wasn't quite sane, Dumbledore decided and fingered his wand, trying to decide how to restrain him without causing Sirius Black to curse him.

Even as he considered his options, the shadows in the room twisted and warped as the temperature dropped so low, the elderly wizard could see his breath. "I think your doubt and suspicion is irritating Death, Headmaster", Harry stated with a polite half-smile.

The shadows continued writhing and the pressure in the room became suffocating. "Show-off," Harry declared affectionately. The shadows coalesced into a seven foot tall skeletal form wearing a hooded black cloak and carrying a nine foot scythe. It laid a hand on Harry's shoulder, and ice crystals formed around the bony hand.

"I now have all of the Deathly Hallows," Harry continued civilly. "The wand, the resurrection stone, and the invisibility cloak. As Death predicted, I successfully united them. He considers me the Master of Death. Since he is the expert on all things dead or dying, I think it is safe to say that Riddle is well and truly gone and will not return. Unless you decide to attempt to harm me, it will be a few years before you see Death again. Good day, Headmaster."

Harry, Sirius and the ominous specter of Death departed the office, leaving a trembling wizard gasping for breath and trying to calm his racing heart.

"I _told_ you the boy was protected," reminded the Hat smugly from its shelf.

OoOoOoOo


	11. Chapter 11 - Too Young

What if Harry insisted on participating in an Order meeting when he arrived at Grimmauld Place in the summer before his Fifth Year?

OoOoOoOo

Harry Potter wasn't surprised that the first response to his composed request to attend the Order of the Phoenix meeting being held at Grimmauld Place was an outburst by Molly Weasley. "You're too young for this, Harry! This isn't a conversation for children!"

"Young, Mrs. Weasley? I'm too young?" He paused to let her respond.

"Of course you are," she proclaimed righteously. "You aren't even close to being mature enough to participate in discussions of this type! Now you march upstairs and join the other children while the adults meet."

"I was only eleven when a twelve foot troll bypassed the school wards in what is supposed to be one of the safest places in the wizarding world and it tried to kill Hermione. The _adults_ left us with only other students to protect us and sent us out in the hallways where the troll was roaming to go back to our Common rooms. It was Ron and I that saved Hermione, not an adult. Should we have let her die because we were _too young_?"

"Now Harry," interrupted Albus Dumbledore with a grandfatherly smile, "that was a very isolated incident and shouldn't be used to demonstrate whether you are old enough to participate in these adult discussions."

"Indeed, sir. I was still only eleven when a Voldemort-possessed Hogwarts staff member attempted to kill me during a Quidditch match by cursing my broom when I was fifty feet in the air. It wasn't an adult that stopped the curses, but a First Year student. For some reason, the _adults_ never investigated that murder attempt. In fact, none of the _adults_ who knew that staff member realized at any time during the school year that he was possessed. I was only eleven when I killed that same staff member at the end of the year as I fought for my life." He narrowed his eyes just slightly at the plumb red-haired woman's shocked expression.

"I was only twelve when the entire school turned against me because I could speak to snakes and not a single Hogwarts staff member, not a single adult, defended me. I was only twelve when I faced a sixty-foot basilisk and a shade of Voldemort that was sucking the life out of your daughter, Mrs. Weasley. Even as I was dying from basilisk venom, I still destroyed his shade to save _your_ daughter. Should I not have fought either of them and let your daughter die because I was _too young_?"

The Weasley matriarch opened and closed her mouth soundlessly, unsure what to say. No one else commented as he continued speaking softly and quietly. "It was mature adults that decided it was a good idea to send dementors to Hogwarts. I was only thirteen when one of those dementors tried to Kiss me on the Hogwarts Express. I was only thirteen when dozens of dementors swarmed the Quidditch field and tried to kill me again. I was only thirteen when close to one hundred dementors tried to Kiss both my godfather and me. It wasn't the _adults_ in the school that drove them away, it was my Patronus. I would have had my soul sucked out if I had waited for _adults_ to save me."

He looked around with a stony expression. "I was only fourteen when my name was illegally placed into the Goblet of Fire. The Headmaster and the other _mature adults_ decided that I had to compete in a lethal tournament designed only for those who had completed a minimum of six years of schooling. I was only fourteen when the entire school turned on me again plus the Daily Prophet joined the act and yet again not a single Hogwarts _adult_ staff member spoke in my defense. I was only fourteen when I had to face an enraged nesting mother dragon with only my wand and my wits. I was only fourteen when I had to dive into a frozen lake in February _to save your son_ who was unconscious in that freezing water even though I didn't know how to swim. I was only fourteen when I had to face illegally bred skrewts that grew to be ten feet long and acrumantula spiders as big as the Knight Bus. I was only fourteen when I was kidnapped, watched the callous murder of a class mate, forcibly used in a ritual to resurrect Voldemort, tortured with the _cruciatus_ curse…multiple times…and then compelled to duel Voldemort where I barely escaped with my life."

"I'm _too young_ , Mrs. Weasley? You name one person in this room who has faced more than I have in five years." He looked around the room and wasn't surprised to see that most of the adults were staring at him in shock or were looking down in embarrassment. "Young is a state of mind. I never had a childhood. Being ill-treated and neglected by magic-hating child abusers tends to prevent that. Now, as you are discussing Voldemort and he has made killing me one of his top priorities, I think I have the right to participate in these meetings."

Without a word, Remus Lupin moved over one seat, leaving the chair next to Harry's godfather, Sirius, open. Harry sat down between the two men and looked at Dumbledore impassively, raising one eyebrow when the man didn't start the meeting.

Sirius leaned forward to murmur in his ear, "Very well said, Pup. Although for the record, you and I will be having a private conversation when this meeting is done."

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	12. Chapter 12 – Silence Isn't Golden

**Chapter 12 – Silence Isn't Golden**

What if Harry wasn't willing to forgive everyone's silence the summer after the Tri-Wizard Tournament?

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Harry James Potter was a very angry teenager. He had endured traumatic year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that included being forced into a deadly tournament with students much older than him simply because someone else entered his name. The majority of the school turned their backs to him and considered him a liar and a cheater for entering the tournament, including his once best friend, Ron Weasley. While his other best friend, Hermione Granger, had helped him study to survive the Tournament, she still didn't trust him enough to tell him who had invited her to the Yule Ball. It turned out to be the famous Quidditch player and Durmstrang student, Victor Krum.

"She knows how much I hate my fame," Harry thought to himself even as his hands automatically pulled weeds in the summer heat. "Why did she think she couldn't trust me with who her date was? Did she think I was going to run around the school gossiping? Did she think I would run to the Press with it? Does she really know me so little?"

That was only one of the questions that kept running through the dark-haired teen's mind as he worked hour after hour in his relatives' yard during the summer break. When those questions weren't occupying his attention, the horrors he had experienced filled his thoughts. The Tournament had included three terrifying and deadly tasks. At the end of the last one, he and another student, Cedric Diggory, were kidnapped and Harry watched in dismay as the other teen was callously murdered simply for being unnecessary to his kidnappers. Harry was stunned unconscious and later used in a necromantic ritual to bring the wraith of the dark wizard Voldemort back to life and in a full-sized body.

The resurrected wizard tortured him under the Cruciatus curse, one of the three curses so horrendous they earned the name of "Unforgiveables". One of the most evil spells known, the Cruciatus curse inflicts excruciating pain on the victim, causing every single nerve in the body to burn with unbearable agony. Voldemort cast it on him twice and then the dark wizard demanded that Harry duel him in front of his cheering followers. Harry barely had four years of training while the dark wizard had approximately seventy years to hone his spell repertoire. It was only sheer luck that Harry escaped with his life and was able to return to Hogwarts, risking his life to bring Cedric's body back. He told everyone what had happened, but the Minister of Magic refused to believe him. Since then, the wizard paper known as the Daily Prophet, had begun to vilify him as a delusional attention-seeking liar.

"After everything that happened, they dumped me back at my magic-hating relatives, who despise me. Hardly any letters are sent to me, and those I do get don't even bother to warn me about what the Prophet is saying. Not one word about seeing Cedric murdered. Where is my help in coping? Apparently, I'm not worth the effort. These are my best friends?"

Harry's nights were filled with nightmares, as he relived the horror in the cemetery.

 _"_ _On three, right?"_

 _"_ _Kill the spare."_

 _"_ _Avada Kedavra!"_

" _Crucio_!"

 _"_ _Imperio! Bow to death, Harry!"_

It was after yet another day of these thoughts running through his head, wondering why he was being punished with absolute silence when he needed help so desperately, that his grief over Cedric's murder and the subsequent trauma he had undergone slowly morphed from helplessness to anger. A very cold and ruthless fury. He was treated like a hero one day only to be vilified the next by the school, the teachers, and the general public. Enough was enough!

As he thought about everything that happened, the teen began to draft a plan of action. He wrote to his godfather, Sirius, and asked how the Mauraders had put a password on a certain map. While Sirius followed Dumbledore in many areas, sharing this wasn't in the list of prohibited activities or information, and he gladly shared the information using Kreacher to deliver a letter asking what Harry was planning.

Harry shared a few details of his idea, but not everything, leaving Sirius to think Harry was planning a prank. He enthusiastically shared his knowledge and even looked up spells in the Black library that might be helpful. He also shared how the wards around the Black townhouse prevented the Ministry from knowing about under aged magic, so Harry could practice once he arrived. In the meantime, Harry practiced using a pencil, memorizing the appropriate movements until he could perform them rapidly and flawlessly.

While his plan diverted him most of the time, when Harry wasn't focused on the scheme, his anger rose again at being callously abandoned by his so-called friends and the adults in his life. It was while he was in the throes of that rage, when the Dursleys were away from the house leaving him locked in his room, that Harry heard a loud crash. He moved to the corner of the room, half hidden by a bureau and pointed his wand at the door. The door unlocked and slowly opened, only to reveal his former professor and friend of his father, Remus Lupin. At the man's urging, Harry packed his trunk, made sure his wand was secured in his wrist holster and then headed downstairs. He was shocked to find a small crowd of witches and wizards at the bottom of the stairs. A few minutes later he exclaimed, "Are you insane? You want ten of us to fly broomsticks to London?"

Remus Lupin appeared slightly shocked at Harry's comments. "It will be safe, Harry. We will be protecting you and taking you to Sirius' house."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose at the sheer idiocy. "Then call a cab or make a port key. There's no way in hell that ten witches and wizards flying together on brooms are going to be overlooked. Are you _trying_ to violate the Statute of Secrecy?"

While most of the witches and wizards now mirrored Lupin's shock at Harry's rebellion, a grizzled old man laughed out loud. "You tell them, Potter! Stupidest idea I've heard in years myself. Took Albus a long time to convince me. Even disillusioned, we could be hit by birds in the air or caught in the draft of one of those muggle flying contraptions. If you're not all right with it, I'll back you up. Constant vigilance!"

It took a while longer, but Moody eventually created a portkey from one of the ten brooms. With all of them touching it, they were transported away, leaving the Dursley house now quiet and barren.

Harry stumbled and would have fallen when they landed, if Lupin hadn't grabbed his elbow to steady him. Harry looked around and found they were in a run-down looking neighborhood. Moody stepped towards Harry and held out a piece of paper. "Read and memorize that," he instructed the teen.

Harry read, "The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London," To his surprise, as soon as he read it, the houses in front of him seemed to jump apart, and another house wedged its way in between the others.

"Come on, Harry," Lupin urged. He and the others rushed Harry into Number 12. He paused a few steps into the place. It was dark, the carpet was threadbare and the wallpaper was peeling off the walls. He quickly stepped to one side, drew his wand, and hissed the two planned spells pushing as much magic as he could into the incantations. Lupin, who was nearest the teen, looked at him in confusion, but didn't say anything as the teen only seemed to be hissing.

The teenager had no more than tucked his wand away before Ron's mother, Mrs. Weasley, emerged from a door and hurried toward them. She pulled Harry into a crushing hug. "It's good to see you, Harry," she said with a bright smile. "Now you go upstairs. You'll be rooming with Ron, of course. Ron and Hermione are both up there, and will fill you in." She tried to tug the teen towards the stairs.

From the room she had come from, Harry saw his godfather sitting at a table surrounded by a crowd of other people, including the Hogwarts Headmaster. The group that came with him moved around the teen and the Weasley matriarch and joined the others in what he now realized was a large kitchen.

"In a few minutes, Mrs. Weasley," he said with as much civility as he could muster. "I need to have a few words with everyone first, including Ron and Hermione."

"Now Harry," began the middle-aged redhead sternly, "this isn't the appropriate time...".

However, Headmaster Dumbledore looked at the teen, smiled benevolently and interrupted the woman. "That's all right, Molly. Let's allow young Mr. Potter a few minutes." The other adults grumbled, but subsided when Dumbledore arranged himself to listen politely.

"Children," yelled Molly Weasley at the foot of the stairs. "Come down for a few minutes. Harry is here."

The sound of five teenagers banging down the stairs caused most of the adults to grumble.

"Harry!" exclaimed Hermione as she moved forward to hug the teen. Harry held out a hand to stop her and nodded towards the larger group of adults. "Later Hermione," he said quietly.

As the newly arrived teens quieted, Harry looked around the room at the waiting assembly. Dumbledore wore his grandfatherly look, most of the adults appeared a bit disgruntled to have to listen to the teen, while Snape sneered from a shadowed corner of the room. Sirius was grinning at his godson, hoping to see a great prank play out.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Harry began calmly. "I would like to take a few minutes of your time to discuss the last ten months. It started when I was illegally entered into a deadly Tournament and forced to participate by the adults responsible for the safety of the students. My supposed best friend called me a liar and a cheat and spent weeks insulting me to my face and behind my back." The Weasley parents appeared surprised. Apparently Ron hadn't shared that with them, Harry thought. Ron's ears began to redden as he looked both embarrassed and angry at being called out.

"I had to face a very large, very angry nesting mother dragon; the most dangerous dragon that was brought. It took more than half a dozen adult dragon handlers to move her into the arena, yet all the responsible adults involved decided that the event was appropriate for individual school-aged students. Apparently, Bill Weasley knew about the Tournament, because he made subtle mention of it at the station on September 1st. Mr. Weasley is a department head at the Ministry, so one assumes he wasn't totally in the dark about the dragons, yet once my name was drawn, neither of them decided that it was important to mention to a boy with only three years of education just what he would be facing so that he could prepare." Arthur Weasley looked both surprised and then slightly ashamed at those comments.

"When Charlie arrived in Hogsmeade, did he never meet with the twins, Ron or Ginny? And yet not one of them said anything to me about dragons. I learned about them a mere two days before the event; an event in which I nearly died." The twins, Ron and Ginny all squirmed uncomfortably. "Interestingly, the Champions of the other schools knew about the dragons in advance." He looked at the Headmaster, who didn't change his expression.

"I nearly drowned in the next so-called 'task'. Apparently no one realized or cared that not all of the contestants could swim, much less swim in frigid water. In the third task, I was already injured and poisoned before I was kidnapped. I saw a classmate murdered, was stunned and captured, stabbed, used in a necromantic ritual, tortured repeatedly with the cruciatus curse and finally was nearly murdered by Voldemort as his minions watched with delight and cheered him on." He turned to a now wide-eyed Molly Weasley and asked, "Mrs. Weasley, after Ginny was possessed and nearly died, why wasn't she sent to her Aunt Muriel away from the rest of the family to recuperate?"

Molly was appalled at the very concept of the non-sequitur. "Harry, Ginny needed the love and support of her family after such a traumatic event; she needed us! Why would we send her away?" Hermione's eyes widened and she moved her hand over her mouth. Slowly a few of the adults in the room began to realize Harry's intent.

He looked around the room, meeting the eyes of every witch and wizard there. "I was forced into a Tournament by the Hogwarts staff. Not _one_ of them helped or supported me. In fact, I received more help from the Death Eater trying to kill me than any Hogwarts professor." He let his eyes rest on Minerva McGonagall for a moment. "The majority of the school turned on me, publicly accused me of being a liar and a cheater, and not a single staff member said anything. Students proudly wore badges that proclaimed "Potter stinks" and not a single staff member opposed that harassment; in fact, some of the staff," he paused to look at Snape who sneered back at him, "encouraged and _participated_ in the bullying. After being forced against my will into a deadly competition, after being bullied by the school, abandoned and belittled by my supposed best friend, I was then kidnapped, watched as a classmate was murdered, then I was stabbed, and tortured. What happened after that? I was forced back to the magic-hating relatives that despise me. Where was my help and support, Mrs. Weasley?" The older woman now had a horrified look on her face. The other adults, with the exception of the Potions Master, looked uncomfortable, while Sirius and Remus appeared a combination of shocked, outraged and contrite.

Harry looked at Hermione, who now had guilty tears slowly rolling down her cheeks. "I was only eleven years old when I jumped on the back of a twelve foot troll to save your life, Hermione. If you had _only_ been kidnapped or merely hit _once_ with the cruciatus, I would have walked barefoot from Little Whinging to Crawley to make sure that you were all right. Where were you?"

Hermione whispered, "Professor Dumbledore said it was too dangerous to write and information could be intercepted…"

Harry shook his head in disgust. "From what my 'escort' said, there were people from this little group around my house all summer. Why didn't you give them a letter to deliver? Surely if they were trustworthy enough to be here they could be trusted to give me a letter? If not, you have a Ministry department head here. Surely Mr. Weasley knows how to keep a letter confidential? And if he didn't know, there were aurors in my escort. I'll bet one of them knows how to keep the contents of a document secret, considering that they have to keep information confidential on a regular basis." Harry rubbed his chin and added thoughtfully, "I suppose getting their time might have been difficult. Well, it's a shame that there aren't a couple of people here who you have successfully kept a document private through a password." He pointedly looked at Sirius and Lupin before returning his cold glare on her. "No? Then do you really think the Death Eaters were watching the millions of pieces of Muggle mail in the hopes of finding something addressed to Harry Potter? I repeat, _where were you_ , Hermione?" Hermione drooped further with each option he suggested and finally covered her face with her hands as she sobbed at how she never even gave a thought to ways to communicate with him and give him the support he obviously needed.

"The adults in this room have proven that they can't be trusted with my well-being and they certainly haven't earned my respect. My one-time friends have proven that they are only fair-weather acquaintances; they are my mates only when it's easy and convenient for them. The time when I desperately needed help, after being kidnapped and tortured, I had _nothing_. From anyone."

He looked around the room. "I consider no one in this room my friend or ally. As a result, _no one_ in this room has my permission to use my given name. I expect everyone to call me Mr. Potter or simply Potter from here forward."

Hermione immediately responded disbelievingly "Harry..."

"Miss Granger," Harry interrupted her coldly, "you are not stupid. I am certain you understood what I just said. Refusing to give me that courtesy is stubbornness, not friendship."

"Harry…ouch!" She brought her hand to her cheek as her eyes widened in shock.

"You were asked once and warned once. Anyone who uses my given name will find that a stinging hex will be cast at a random part of their body. The more often they make the attempt, the stronger the hex will become." Sirius' eyes widened as he realized just how Harry had used the information he had sent.

Dumbledore gave a loud sigh of disappointment and said, "There is no need for that, Harry." He drew his wand and cast a strong "finite incantatem" at the teen. He shook his head and said in a said voice, "Now Harry, my dear b…" and then jumped and looked at the teenager in shock as he felt a sharp sting. Gasps were heard as the group realized the Headmaster had been hexed.

"The spell is password secured, Headmaster," Harry said in response to the surprised look on the elderly wizard's face. "It can't be dispelled. And I have no intention of dropping it. I made a reasonable request to be treated formally as I am not friends with anyone in this room. There is nothing wrong with that. And it is customary and expected for the staff at Hogwarts to call students by their surnames."

Dumbledore looked at Harry with profound disappointment, and then attempted to scan the young man's thoughts to learn the password to remove the spell. Harry briefly glowed a bright yellow, which stopped abruptly. "And that, ladies and gentleman, was the Headmaster deliberately attempting to rape my mind to steal the password because he doesn't believe I have the right to privacy or to be treated with courtesy or respect. Any time someone uses _Legilmens_ on me from now on, it will be readily apparent, as I will glow brightly…for the first few attempts. Hopefully, you will never find what happens if someone repeatedly attempts to violate my mind. Let's just say it won't be pleasant...for them."

Harry's eyes turned cold and his face impassive as he looked at each person briefly, then stated icily, "You have all either been actively involved with child abuse or you stood by and passively accepted it and are therefore complicit in it. To be honest, I find you all beneath contempt."

He turned and left the room, quietly shutting the door behind him. Voices broke out a few seconds later, but he turned and went to the library, again shutting the door.

A scant minute later, Sirius Black hesitantly entered the library, looking at the teen with haunted eyes. "Pup…I don't know what to say. You are absolutely right. I have no excuse for leaving you alone after such a harrowing series of events. I didn't even realize just how unbearable it was. I..I'm so very sorry." The older man's voice broke with his remorse.

Harry's impassive face relaxed just a bit. "You were the only person that had a chance at forgiveness, Sirius. You spent over a decade with dementors, so I can understand you not thinking things through. Besides, you helped me with the spell research. And you may call me Harry." The two glowed briefly as the spell's exception took effect.

Sirius held out his arms and Harry stepped into them, shuddering slightly at all the emotions and adrenalin rushing through his system after the confrontation. He felt Sirius trembling as well. "I may have failed miserably before," his godfather declared, "but I refuse to continue stand by and do nothing. If you find the people in this house contemptible, then I refuse to give them refuge in the House of Black." Harry leaned back and looked up at him inquiringly with a raised eyebrow.

Sirius gave him a sad half-smile and which quickly took on a slightly roguish look. He let the family wand he had found in storage at the house drop into his hand and raised it above his head. "I, Sirius Black, Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, hereby disallow entry to this House except for me and Harry Potter. Every other witch or wizard is hereby forbidden access." There was a number of small booms heard from outside the library as air rushed into the space previously occupied by the people in the kitchen.

Harry's eyes widened in shock. He honestly didn't think Sirius would take such immediate and decisive action. Sirius tightened his arms in response and hugged his godson tenderly. After several long moments, he leaned back and called "Kreacher!"

To Harry's surprise, an old and dirty house elf appeared in front of his godfather, scowling at the two wizards.

"Nasty blood traitor master calls and Kreacher must respond. What does nasty master want from Kreacher," the house elf spat in disgust.

"All of the traitors have been ejected from the House. I want you to pack up their items and _only_ the items that they brought and put them across the street. Be sure they don't have anything belonging to the House mixed in with their possessions."

Kreacher's already large eyes opened impossibly wide. "Nasty master ejected the revolting blood traitors and Kreacher can throw out their dirty items?" The house elf nearly danced in happiness. "Yes Master. Kreacher does so immediately." He popped away.

Sirius wrapped an around his godson's shoulders, turning him towards the sofa. "OK, Harry, let's talk."

OoOoOoOo

While Sirius led Harry through a more detailed discussion of the last year, members of the Order of the Phoenix found themselves across the street from the house, many of them tumbling to the ground if they had been sitting when expelled.

"What the…"

"What happened?"

"How are we outside?"

"Albus, what's going on?"

Albus Dumbledore held up a hand against the rush of exclamations and examined the small crowd. The elderly wizard felt a small chill as he realized that only Sirius Black and Harry Potter were missing. "I think Sirius found young Mr. Potter's allegations entirely too believable and turned the wards against us," he replied, making sure his disappointment in both Harry's and Sirius' actions were heard in his voice.

"Can you blame him," asked Fred Weasley.

"Every one of us has hurt or ignored his godson," added George, his twin.

"Why would he give us guest privileges when we didn't make any attempt to treat his godson with compassion or respect," Fred finished, ignoring Snape's snort of derision.

"We can't leave the two of them in there alone," cried Molly Weasley. "Sirius isn't fit company for that poor boy. He needs someone who loves and understands him!"

"Like you, Mum," asked George, raising an eyebrow.

"Exactly," she responded, striding across the street intending to pound on the door and demand re-admittance. However, as soon as she touched the door, she was abruptly blown across the street, only being kept from injury by Arthur's hastily cast cushioning charm. Molly took a deep breath and then screeched "That proves it! He's not fit to take care of a teenaged boy. He's dangerous and reckless!"

"On the contrary," responded the quiet voice of Remus Lupin, who stared sorrowfully at the house. "He's acting exactly as a concerned godfather should act. He's removed the people that have either actively endangered his godson or stood by passively and allowed him to be injured. It seems like a very reasonable and measured response to me." The werewolf was deeply ashamed that he had allowed himself to be persuaded by the Headmaster to comply with the imposed communication ban on the teenager, especially when it was obvious just how badly the boy needed help after the traumatic experiences of the past year.

"I've never hurt Harry," began the Weasley matriarch, only to be interrupted by the twins.

"Really Mum? You said Ginny needed the love and support of her family to get through the trauma of her first year at Hogwarts, but did absolutely nothing when Harry repeatedly sent Hedwig and asked for help. You wouldn't send Ginny to Aunt Muriel to recover, but you did nothing when Harry was sent to the people who keep him locked up and hungry. Inaction can be just as hurtful as a deliberate injury."

Their mother looked stunned for a few moments before the image of the small thin teen returning covered in blood, clutching both Cedric Diggory's body and the Tournament cup, his voice hoarse as he frantically yelled for help filled her mind. "Oh. Oh dear." She looked at her husband with shame. "Oh Arthur, what have we done?"

OoOoOoOo


	13. Chapter 13 - Don't Forget to Duck

**Don't Forget to Duck**

What if Harry didn't take being put on display, questioned and sneered at during the meeting at the Hogshead during his Fifth Year?

OoOoOoOo

With the Ministry infiltrator, Delores Umbridge, refusing to teach any Defense or allowing students to practice spells during class, Hermione Granger became very worried that she would fail her OWLs. That was simply unacceptable to the success-driven teenager. She begged and nagged her friend, Harry Potter, the best Defense student in their year, until he finally succumbed to her relentless appeals and reluctantly agreed to help her and a few others study for their OWL. She set up a meeting at the Hog's Head pub on their next Hogsmeade weekend for those interested to work out the logistics.

That morning, Harry stood inside the filthy Hog's Head pub and stared at the crowd of students staring back at him; over two dozen students from three of the four Houses. He turned his head to glare at Hermione, including his other friend, Ron Weasley in the accusing glare. "Just show us and a few others how to use spells to defend ourselves and correct us when we're doing it wrong," he mocked.

Hermione had the grace to blush. "We only told a couple of people," she tried to explain. "Then they told their friends and well…it grew." She looked at him pleadingly, and when he didn't say anything else, she took that as acceptance, and faced the crowd.

"Could I have your attention, please," she called out. The conversations quieted down and everyone looked at her. "Thank you. I know many people are frustrated at Professor Umbridge only permitting us to read about theory in Defense Against the Dark Arts. For many of us, it is our OWL or NEWT years, and we're sure to fail them if we don't learn and practice new spells before the exams. Therefore, I thought that it might be a good idea if people who wanted to really study Defense started an active study group."

Zacharias Smith, a blond Hufflepuff known for his arrogance, snidely demanded, "What makes any of you good enough to lead a study group?"

"I may not be the best student," Hermione blushed, "but Harry is. And it's not just the OWLs and NEWTs we have to worry about. With You-Know-Who back, we have to learn to defend ourselves and our families."

"The Ministry and the Daily Prophet deny that You-Know-Who is back," Smith responded loudly. "Besides, everyone knows that Potter isn't exactly reliable. We've got a right to know exactly why Potter says You-Know-Who is back."

Harry felt his temper snap as it dawned on him just why so many students were there. Some, perhaps most of them, had turned up in the hopes of hearing a firsthand account of what happened at the end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

 _"Kill the spare"._

 _"Bow to death, Harry."_

 _"Crucio!"_

Harry suppressed a shudder and looked the assembled students. He was tired of being treated like a dark wizard because he could speak parseltongue, or as a delusional liar when no formal investigation had occurred into what happened at the end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. In addition, Umbridge had the audacity to practically accuse him of murdering Cedric Diggory himself during one of her supposed classes. And now, after being harangued by Hermione until he agreed to help others, he was once again insulted by one of the very people he was trying to help!

He drew his wand a shot an overpowered _lumos_ out of it. Once he had everyone's attention, he said very quietly, "I'm not reliable. Of course. I'm only a fifteen year old student paying for an education like the rest of you. Oh wait, your mummies and daddies pay for you, while I'm paying for myself. But of course you survived being attacked by a possessed teacher in your First Year…oh wait. That was me. You killed a sixty foot basilisk in your Second Year…oh wait. That was me. Well, you drove off every single dementor stationed around Hogswart with your patronus in Third Year. Oh wait…that was me again." He glared at Zarachrias Smith. "Perhaps _you_ were illegally entered into a deadly competition and forced to compete against your will or lose your magic. Perhaps _you_ faced a twenty foot high dragon…or saved a friend from the depths of a nearly frozen Black Lake…or fought through a maze of acrumantulas and blast-ended skrewts...oh wait, that was me… _again_. Perhaps you watched a good man murdered before your very eyes for no reason than being in the wrong place at the wrong time and was then tortured. No, wait…that was me, again."

He shook his head. "The entire school has turned on me on multiple occasions. I remember many of you calling me the Heir of Slytherin in my second year and warning others to avoid me. What happened? I saved every student in the school from a sixty foot basilisk. How many of you apologized?" Several students looked down to avoid his eyes and shifted uncomfortably. "I remember many of you here today wearing the 'Potter Stinks' badges just last year. And now, when I'm a student paying for an education that isn't being provided, when I'm being _defrauded_ of my tuition, I agree to help a couple of friends study together so that we can pass our OWL's, only to have you turn on me yet again." Several of the students nearest to Zacharias Smith glared at him and moved away. It was too little too late for Harry.

He looked around the room at the students who had come to the meeting that Hermione had organized. "Well, I'm not interested in helping a group of oblivious and unreliable people who are so willing to turn on me. As of today, I'm done. Voldemort is back." He ignored the gasps and shudders at the name. "If you pay attention, you'll notice that people are disappearing again. Innocent people are dying again, but it's being kept quiet. Eventually, you'll learn that once again, I was falsely accused and will look to me to do something, but by then it will be too late. You keep believing whatever the Daily Prophet tells you, even when you know they've been caught in lies repeatedly. As for me, I'm done with you."

Several people looked either shocked that Harry had finally had enough, or horrified that they would be left with only Umbridge's lessons in their OWL or NEWT years. Harry ignored their muttering just as he ignored Hermione's frantic attempts to get him to reconsider.

As he wrapped his cloak over his shoulders, he looked out over the crowd of uncomfortable students. "I have just one other thing to say." He fastened the clasp of his cloak and said blandly, "When you see that green light coming towards you, don't forget to duck."

OoOoOoOo


	14. Chapter 14 - It's Not My Job!

**Chapter 14 – It's NOT My Job**

What if Harry refused the moniker of "Chosen One" by the Daily Prophet?

OoOoOoOo

Hermione Granger shook her head and sighed in misery after reading the latest story in the Daily Prophet about a series of attacks on the homes of Muggleborn students. She folded and laid the newspaper down by her plate in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, depressed with the report.

"How bad is it," Harry Potter asked in response to her unhappy sigh. He refused to read that publication himself. They had spent the previous year slandering him as a lying arrogant delusional teen because he had divulged seeing the evil wizard Voldemort resurrected. After the same dark wizard was seen publicly in the Ministry at the end of the last school year, they suddenly changed their reporting, but never once offered him an apology for the year-long defamation and vilification of his character. Instead, they suddenly began lauding him as the "Chosen One", implying that he was the one that would save them all. He considered the Prophet nothing more than a Ministry propaganda tool and despised it. They certainly didn't do anything to make him want to put his life on the line for them.

"Three families attacked," Hermione replied sadly. "Out of seven in the homes, only one survived, and that was a toddler that was hidden under his mother's body."

"If Fudge hadn't been bought by Malfoy," Ron grumbled, "then maybe the DMLE could have trained better, had better equipment, and been prepared for war."

Both Harry and Ron muttered together, "Bloody arse", followed by an almost unconscious "Language" rebuke from their female best friend.

"Well, you have to admit that it's true, Hermione," griped Ron. "Fudge spent an entire year trying to prove Dumbledore was trying to take over the Ministry, while Umbridge bloody _tortured_ the students here, but do you see anything happening? No, they got away with everything! I don't know how Dad can find the motivation to go to work at the Ministry every day." He firmly believed his father was one of the few truly honest employees in the Ministry, along with Amelia Bones.

"Excuse me, Harry," a hesitant voice asked from a few seats down the table. The Gryffindor recognized the voice of his zealous fan, Colin Creevey. It was unusual for the normally animated boy to speak so timidly to him.

"Yeah, Colin, what is it," he replied, looking at the younger Gryffindor who was clutching his own copy of the Daily Prophet.

The younger teen took a deep breath and looked at his House mate with pleading eyes. "Are you going to stop him soon, Harry?"

Conversation around the Trio quieted as everyone who heard the question paused to hear Harry's answer. The question was repeated to those that didn't hear it, and soon almost the entire Great Hall was looking towards Harry.

"Am I going to stop who, Colin?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice calm. "Our next Quidditch match is with the Ravenclaws, and Cho Chang is their seeker and a she, if you hadn't noticed." He tried to smile, but knew it was forced.

Colin Creevey shook his head. "No, I mean…You-Know-Who. Are you going to stop him before he kills _my_ parents?"

"Colin!" Hermione exclaimed in outrage. "Harry is a student, not an auror. Stopping terrorists is something the DMLE is there to do. Why would you even _think_ of suggesting that Harry should stop him?"

"But…he's Harry Potter," the boy gasped. "The Prophet says he's the 'Chosen One', the one who will stop You-Know-Who."

Harry shook his head in exasperation. "The Prophet is also the paper that swore that I was a delusional liar when I said Voldemort was back. You know, it's interesting, but I don't see any of _them_ stepping up and taking a stand against Voldie, yet they're perfectly willing to think that after calling me every insulting name in the book, including a dark wizard and potential Death Eater, they can turn around without even an apology and _demand_ that I somehow save their sorry arses." He ignored Hermione's poke for his language.

A voice from the Hufflepuff table called out, "But you have to! You stopped him last time. It's your job!"

Harry stared at the Hufflepuff table in bewilderment. "My job? That's odd, I don't remember applying for any job and I guarantee that no one is paying me anything. I'm just a student, the same as the rest of you. And as for stopping him last time, who told you that fairy tale? There were only four of us in the house that night, three of them died, and no one ever interviewed me about it. Someone, probably Rita Skeeter or her predecessor, made up yet another story, and _once again_ everyone believed it, _without a shred of proof_."

"But you survived the Killing Curse," came a voice from the Ravenclaw table. "Your scar proves it."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. With a deep breath, he stood up and frowned at the students in the Great Hall. "Yes, I have a scar on my forehead. Now think about everything you learned about the Killing Curse. It kills instantly, there is no magical shield that works against it, and…" He looked around, obviously waiting for an answer.

"It leaves no mark on the victim," responded Luna Lovegood from the Ravenclaw table with a small smile.

"Exactly! I would give you ten points, Luna, if I could." He looked around the Great Hall again. "I bear a curse scar, but the Killing Curse can't be stopped and leaves no mark. What does that imply?"

After several seconds, Terry Boot answered from his seat near Luna, "That you were probably hit with another curse?"

Harry raised his hands and looked towards the ceiling. "Hallelujah, someone gets it!" He lowered his hands and looked around the Hall again. "Someone decided that Voldie came for me. Both of my parents were dead. I had a bleeding mark on my forehead. Voldie's robes were there, but no body and no wand. And what did the oh-so-brilliant reporters deduce? Why that even though it was contrary to everything known about the curse, I _must_ have been hit with it and I _must_ have miraculously survived it while also inexplicably destroying Voldie's body, even though there wasn't a shred of evidence to support that story! The public lapped it up and never questioned that account, but just started celebrating."

He paused and his voice became colder. "While the rest of your families were celebrating, I was abandoned on the doorstep of magic-hating muggles and _forsaken_ by the rest of the wizarding world. A decade later, I'm brought out of the muggle world with no knowledge of magic and find out that ' _everyone_ ' knows I'm the so-called Boy-Who-Lived and everyone had expectations of me that no eleven year old could ever hope to meet."

"What do _you_ think happened that night, Potter," asked Tracy Davis. It was an unexpected question to come from the Slytherin table.

Harry looked at the young woman. "Honestly? I think my parents did something. They laid some type of magical trap, and when he cast a lethal spell at me, it rebounded and destroyed his body, leaving him a wraith." His voice became both amused and mocking. "I was a toddler in nappies; what was I going to do? Throw a rattle at him?"

He turned back to Colin and answered with a little more kindness than he actually felt. "I will do just as much as everyone else, Colin. If I'm attacked, I'll fight back. We're all given a deadly weapon when we're only eleven years old." There were gasps and denials at this. Harry sighed and drew out his wand and held it up. "We all learn how to slow opponents, lock their tongues, trip them, and incarcerate them. We also learn how to cast cutting curses, banishing hexes, and shields. We learn spells that can be used to summon an object to interrupt a curse when a magical shield won't help. I will do the same as you and your brother, Colin." He nodded towards Dennis Creevey at the Gryffindor table. "I will fight back and try to survive, but it's up to trained aurors, who are fully qualified witches and wizards to take down terrorists. Not adolescent students, regardless of what rubbish unreliable newspapers declare."

"Well said, Mister Potter," Minerva McGonagall said as she moved next to him. She had come down from the staff table when the entire Hall became involved in the discussion, but stayed out of it to see what her Gryffindor would say. She cast a stern gaze around the Hall and added, "It is not a student's responsibility to stop dark wizards and their followers. That is the role of the DMLE." She knew that the Headmaster would chastise her for her comments, but he wasn't there and she didn't care if her comments upset him. Children shouldn't be expected to overcome terrorists! She continued, "However, it is all of our responsibility to help protect our homes, businesses, and friends. That is why Defense is offered and why is it so important that you pay attention. Besides Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Charms, Potions and even Herbology can help protect your homes and families."

She cast another severe gaze at each House table. "Now, I do believe breakfast is done, and you have classes to attend. I strongly suggest that you apply yourselves in those classes."

The students gathered their items and began heading out to their first class of the day, avidly discussing the comments made that morning. "Ten points to Gryffindor," Minerva murmured as she watched Harry exit the room.

OoOoOoOo


End file.
